Part III: Age of the West
by Rougeification
Summary: SYOC. 1902. The Rune Brody Gang, wanted in three states, find themselves arriving in Rhodes, LE, a town run by the ruthless and powerful Davenport family.
1. Another Beast Entirely

**So, here's the prologue. A nice long one for you too. I hope you all enjoy it – it's not really about the gang but… yeah, here we go.**

_21__st__ June, 1902_

_Caliga Hall, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Caliga Hall had belonged to the Grays of Rhodes. But, in the past three years following their sudden and violent murder, it had been restored to its former glory. A red-brick three-floor house with a picturesque white porch on the front.

Inside the dining room, Roy Davenport sat at the head of the table, eating the fried pork as he idly flipped through the newspaper.

_**The Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders Strike Again!**_

_ Another attack against the Yankee laws as the Confederate renegades rob a train carrying payloads from New York. Marshal Matthew Daly, assigned to the case, states that it 'won't be long before the criminals are brought to justice. There is no Yankee or Confederate – only American_'.

Roy rolled his eyes and closed the newspaper. In a year, he'd be forty-four. God… he didn't feel it. Perhaps it was the fact that he wasn't riding a damn horse all the time or dealing with nonsense like most businessmen. No, on paper, Roy Davenport was the landowner of Caliga Hall and its tobacco fields. Sadly, they gave very little yield – much of the soil wasn't suitable for farming. But Roy made the occasional penny as a lawyer – a damned good one, as well.

Because of his status in Rhodes (and the rest of Lemoyne, for that matter), Roy made sure he always looked presentable. Pomade in his dark brown hair, combed back, a neatly trimmed beard that did not obscure his angular jaw or sharp cheekbones.

At the other end of the table was Roy's wife, Valentina. She was a beautiful woman – all the attractiveness of an Italian and the refinement of a southern belle. Though she had been born in Sicily, she'd made Rhodes her home. With two beautiful southern belles as her children, she was regarded as much a southerner as her husband. Her olive skin and slender body didn't make her look forty. She smoothed down her red dress and dabbed the corners of lips with a handkerchief before sipping her tea.

"Mama," spoke the girl at the table, "can I have a cigarette now?"

"It's 'may I', honey…" Valentina said to the young girl.

Roy's emerald eyes flickered over to his youngest daughter, Paradise. Slender like her mother, Paradise had inherited more than her father's eyes: her hair was like Roy's – dark chestnut. Half of it was tied in delicate braids – most likely by Valentina, and the rest fell past her shoulders in deep waves and curls. Her skin was warm like peach skin and she'd inherited her father's sharp features.

"You already smoked through breakfast." Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Because I enjoy it," Paradise replied simply.

"Oh, let her smoke," Valentina said to Roy as she gestured to a dining maid. "It's only a cigarette, Roy."

Roy shook his head and glanced back to the newspaper detailing the Brotherhood's exploits. There was another article that caught his eye…

**_Rune Brody Gang: Beware of Outlaws!_**

_ Best-known for the murder of Frederick Herridge and the robbery of banks in Blackwater and Valentine, the Rune Brody Gang has been sighted in New Hanover. After rustling cattle from Emerald Ranch, law-abiding citizens in the states of Ambarino and Lemoyne are to be wary of the gang. Noted members are as follows: Rune Brody, Aiden McKneil, Luca d'Angelo & Alice MacKenzie. Sheriff Malloy of Valentine has warned that they are bloodthirsty, sinful and without guilt for the murder of numerous lawmen including his late deputy, Jonathon Cooley. "He was everything the law should be," Malloy states, "honest, god-fearing and just. A true American."_

_ Eye-witness accounts in Emerald Ranch, NH, state that the gang are made up of criminal negroes and greasers with a single red Indian that is equal to them in terms of savagery…_

"Papa!" Paradise frowned at Roy. "You aren't _listening_ to me!"

Roy blinked and looked up from the newspaper. "Yes, honey?"

"I want a new horse."

"What about Sweetie?" Roy asked Valentina.

"Demi Barlow has two horses!" Paradise frowned.

"Two _cheap_ horses…" Roy raised an eyebrow.

"What horse would you like, honey?" Valentina asked Paradise.

"Val…" Roy said quietly.

"What good is money if we can't afford as much as the Barlow's?" Valentina scowled. "I could always ask Guido…"

"No…" Roy sighed. "No, I suppose we may as well…" Roy took a sip from his teacup and glanced up to realize that the chair opposite Paradise was empty. The plate was bare and cutlery clean. "Where's Genevieve?" Roy asked.

"Oh, I suppose she's out doing… something…" Valentina waved a hand. "Perhaps with Mr. Durand?" Valentina smiled.

"Perhaps…" Roy nodded as he set his teacup down.

"How long until he's made manager of the bank?"

"A year or two, I'd wager."

"I think you could… quicken that…" Valentina's deep blue eyes settled on Roy until he nodded.

"I'll have a word. But there's other business."

"What business?" Valentina asked. "Don't tell me Mr. Hughes is in need of-"

"Not law," Roy interrupted her as he rose to his feet, walking around the table. "It's our confederate renegades…" Roy looked down to Paradise and pressed his lips to her head. "I'll tell Avery to accompany you into Saint Denis. You may take the train with him and your mother and…" Roy looked up to Valentina. "Well, buy anything you want." Paradise smiled, satisfied, and lit her cigarette. "Valentina, extend my regards to your brother." Roy moved around the table to give his a small kiss.

"Always, Roy."

"Fetch Mr. Cooper for me," Roy said to the servant, who hurried away. "Has Ambrose left already?" Roy asked his wife.

"He left early – I didn't ask him where he was going…"

"No matter…" Roy muttered to himself as he saw the servant return with his most faithful retainer.

Thomas Cooper was a handful of years older than Roy, being fifty-four in just a few months. Thomas' hair was dark brown, with a greying bushy beard that sat at the bottom of his neck. A long, ugly scar cracked along his skin from his white eye. His other was dark and cold. He was paunchy and tall, dressed in a black shirt and vest. He looked somewhat… dishevelled, dressed in a black shirt and brown pants, a black overcoat draped over one arm and his brown hat in hand.

"Problem?" Thomas asked in his crackling East London accent.

"Perhaps, Mr. Cooper," Roy said as he picked up the newspaper and handed it to him. Thomas looked at the newspaper, then to Roy.

"Am I supposed to know what this is?" He frowned.

"That would be a newspaper, Mr. Cooper," Roy said as he received his hat from a servant. "They're _very_ common this side of the Atlantic…"

"Hilarious," Thomas nodded.

"The Brotherhood's robbed a train from New York."

"And?"  
"And I don't appreciate them conducting business that ended with the war."

"You want me to…" Thomas' good eye drifted over to Paradise. "handle them?"

"Nothing quite so rash, Mr. Cooper." Roy smiled. "Get word to Ambrose and go fetch Shelby from the Parlour; I'm calling a meeting."

Thomas nodded. "Mr. Davenport…" He glanced to the women at the table. "Ladies." Thomas bowed his head and left.

* * *

On the grassy banks beside Caliga Hall, Genevieve looked out across the calm waters. She knew alligators dwelled beneath the water, but she couldn't see them. It was a strange idea… a world beneath what she could see.

Genevieve squinted her dark blue eyes and wiped the sweat from her pale, oval face. Her mother's dark hair fell in waves over the lacing of her dress. She bit her thin lip and raised her slender arms, holding the nickel revolver with both hands. She cocked back the hammer of the silver Schofield revolver and aimed at the bottle, snatching the trigger back. Her wrists ached and ears rang but, perhaps most of all, she saw that the bottle still stood in one piece.

A man laughed from beside her. Ambrose was the middle child of the Davenport men. Roy's older brother, he was the one who dealt with the Brotherhood. Gave them their targets, collected their cut…

Ambrose stroked his dark moustache and pushed himself to his feet. "Well, you may not be able to hit a bottle… but I don't know a lady who can."

"How many ladies _do_ you know?" Genevieve muttered as she cocked back the hammer.

"About as many bottles as you've hit today…" Ambrose replied with a smile. "Now, fire again."

"What would Roy say if he knew you were helping me with this?"

"Does it matter? And call him father, not Roy."

"Are you sure you don't want me to call him 'papa'?" Genevieve mimicked her younger sister's dainty voice before scoffing. Ambrose allowed himself to grin a bit. Genevieve wasn't as… traditional as Paradise in terms of what made a lady, but she was prepared to fire a gun and stand up for herself. She was a Davenport, through and through.

"Sharp as a whip, ain't ya?" Ambrose grinned.

"Which whip? Grandaddy's?"

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Focus on the bottle, Lady Ricketts…" He watched as Genevieve closed her eyes and focused on the target, squeezing off a few shots. He wasn't the best to be schooling her in gunplay – hell, Ambrose was the worst shot he knew. But his younger brother, Roy, would talk her out of it – Roy had a way of putting his ideas in others heads. And Shelby, well… Shelby was a dolt. Pampered almost as much as Paradise… No, Ambrose had looked after his younger brothers after their family lost their wealth with their plantation back in Georgia. But, a question Ambrose did not know the answer to arose in his mind.

"Why are you letting me teach you how to shoot?"

"Do I have a choice?" Genevieve asked as she squeezed off another round, making the bottle shudder, but not actually crack – off by less than an inch. "Shit…" Ambrose gave her a gentle nudge on the back of her leg with his ebony cane. She took the cartridges from him and began to reload the revolver. "You taught Avie to shoot as well."

"I did." Ambrose leant on the cane once more.

"He's the best shot I know."

"Was better than you in, what, three years?"

"Four," Ambrose replied. "And it ain't that hard – I'm a shit shot."

"Yeah, but he's _really_ good."

"So why don't you ask _him_ to help ya?"

Genevieve shrugged as she faced Ambrose. "He annoys the shit outta me."

* * *

While tent and wood saloons alike often fell into sickness, violence and disrepair, Rhodes' Parlour Saloon had stood the test of time. Apart from a single incident with the Lemoyne Raiders, all the patrons were of a desirable sort. Amongst most were handsome, well-groomed men resembling the dandies of a century passed. This was in no small part due to the parlour being owned and operated by the eldest of the Davenport brothers, Shelby.

Much like his two younger brothers, Shelby had dark hair. However, that is where their similarities ended. Shelby had no wife, no child and no reputation beyond his own lavish parties frequented by bankers, a church minister and a particular politician from Saint Denis.

Shelby emerged from his own private room on the upper floor of his saloon. He puffed on a cigarette as he began tucking his shirt into the back of his red pinstriped trousers. His gold silk cravat was loose and untied around his neck, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His hair tousled and dripping in sweat. He pulled his braces up over his shoulders and removed his cigarette with a sigh as he began to put on his grey waistcoat.

"A little early for your escapades, isn't it?" Came the gravelly English accent of Thomas. Shelby let out a small smile and turned around to see his brother's favourite dog standing there, puffing on a cigar and swilling a glass of whiskey around in a tumbler glass.

"That's a big word for you, Tommy," Shelby said softly as he began to fasten the buttons of his shirt, "can you spell it?"

Thomas sipped the whiskey, letting out a breath of relief. "Your brother wants to see you."

"I presume you mean Roy." Shelby made his way towards the table, where he picked up the bottle of whiskey. He gave it a whiff and let out a small cough. "After all, Ambrose has his own pack of mad dogs to do his bidding…"

"And you've another beast entirely…" Thomas glimpsed into the room Shelby had just exited – full of sleeping half-naked men with their arms draped across each other, the unmistakably sweet scent and cloud of opium heavy in the air.

"Oh, creatures, certainly, old cock." Shelby began to button up his waistcoat as he looked at the half-naked men. "But beasts? I'm hardly sure of that…" Shelby swept a hand through his hair and, in a matter of seconds, had transformed himself into yet another up-standing citizen of Rhodes, sweating on a hot day. He began to roll down his sleeves as he grinned at Thomas. "Y'know, old cock, I figured something out about you."  
"That I'm not one of your beasts?"  
"Ha! No, of course not! No, I've figured out that you…" Shelby wagged a finger at Thomas. "You would never actually hurt me. Despite your many-"

Thomas grabbed Shelby's finger and clenched. Shelby let out a yelp and was dragged down onto one knee as Thomas leant forwards, his white eye inches from Shelby's dark brown.

"I'd kill you for the sordid little bugger you are, Shelby." Thomas slid the silver Schofield revolver out of his soft brown holster and pushed the barrel into Shelby's mouth. "It'd be the best and last thing to enter your mouth," Thomas growled. Shelby made several guttural sounds which made Thomas frown. Shelby pointed with his free hand to the gun and Thomas removed it. "Sorry, mate, you were saying?"

Shelby pushed out his tongue in disgust, gagging at the taste of metal and gunpowder before looking up at Thomas. "Are you enjoying this as much as I am, old cock?" Shelby asked. Thomas released Shelby's finger and holstered his revolver.

"See Roy, marry a woman and stop consorting with fucking sodomites."

"You take orders from us, Cooper, not the other way around-"

"I don't take orders. I do jobs. And the second I don't…" Thomas pressed his two fingers to Shelby's forehead and cocking his thumb forwards like the hammer of his revolver.

* * *

It was in the morning that Aiden and Lana went riding across the plains in search for any game to hunt. They trotted along on their horses, Aiden occasionally rubbing down Ryder's neck with a fond smile. He wasn't too used to the saddle yet and always wanted to start galloping. Aiden didn't mind – there'd be time enough for that later.

But, as Aiden looked up from his Turkoman and looked across the greenest grass he'd ever seen, in awe of the red clay and dirt that wound across the hills and fields, Lana's dark eyes were set on him.

Alice had always said that longing after a man would weaken a woman's resolve, and Lana felt that. She had lost her fire, her passion. She felt as though she wasn't the same young woman who'd stolen her father's revolver and fled across to America. She was, instead, a girl who had become too infatuated with a cowboy.

But that wouldn't be her for too much longer.

"Hey, you two!"

Lana turned to see a man waddling towards them. In torn and tattered, black and white stripes was a man, shaggy-haired and hollow-faced. Lana felt her face scrunch up at the look of the ugly man and glanced to Aiden, who was grinning.

"Well, now…" Aiden murmured as he leant on the horn of his saddle, "ain't you looking like a sack of crap?"

"Very funny," the man barked, "but, listen y'all, I ain't never… well, I did kill _some_ folk, but I ain't never killed who they're sayin' I did!"

"Did they lock you up for murder?" Aiden asked.

The man paused for a moment. "Well… yeah."

"Sounds pretty fair to me…"

"We could turn him in," Lana said to Aiden. "How much money would we get for you, _señor_?"

"C'mon, Lady, please…" The prisoner whined. "I… I ain't never hated spics or said a bad word to y'all! Just… shoot the chains off me, please?" The prisoner stretched his legs apart to show the manacles between his ankles.

"You sore, sorry bastard…" Aiden grinned widely before looking to Lana. "I don't much reckon the bounty on his head will be as high as ours…" Aiden rubbed his chin. Lana frowned – she could hear Alice's voice in her head, telling her to reclaim her fire.

"And I reckon we should take him," she said pointedly.

"Lana, let's not-"

"My opinion is just as important as yours," Lana said. "And… and I've been educated – I think my say is worth more than… than someone like Luca or Near. And this _pendejo_ isn't an outlaw like us, he's a murderer."

Aiden turned from Lana to face the prisoner with a raised eyebrow. The prisoner's lip quivered. "Oh, c'mon, mister!"

Aiden cleared his throat and looked over to Lana. "We ain't the law, Lana," he said finally. "Lawmen call me a murderer as well. Just like they call Rune one and Luca and…" He shook his head. "We help folk who need it, remember?"

Lana remembered Rune's rules all too well. To only shoot them who needed it. To help everyone who asked for it. And to put the gang first. Above anything and _everything_. Lana flicked her tongue across her teeth. Aiden may have been her equal, but Rune? He was their father, their leader. Rune didn't ask much of them, so she would honour his wishes.

Lana removed her revolver from her holster and cocked back the hammer, aiming at the glinting chain and firing the revolver three times until the chains snapped apart. The prisoner looked down at his feet in shock and let out a nervous laugh, quickly pulling the chains away.

"Thank you, ma'am," the prisoner laughed, "I swear, thank you, you've done right by me, I swear you won't regret it- both of y'all!"

"Get the hell out of here," Aiden snickered to himself as he watched the young man run away into the forest. "And get some new clothes!" Aiden shouted after him, shaking his head. "Damn fool…"

**Well, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! The next one will be up at some point, I'm sure. Keep tuned and drop a review on what you thought.**

**I'm still accepting characters, so feel free to send them in! **


	2. The Devil Inside

**Apologies for the long delay in the update – I wanted to make sure nearly every character could fit into this chapter. So, at nearly 5,000 words, here it is!**

_21__st__ June, 1902_

_Caliga Hall, Rhodes, LE_

It was just past noon in Rhodes, and in the study of Caliga Hall there were panelled walls. Strong, sturdy and still standing, unlike the Braithwaite walls. Besides effortlessly bearing the weight of the Gray legacy and Davenport reputation, the walls also held the weight of secrets. What drove old man Gray to take his own life, how the Davenports came into possession of such a large manor. Of course, the biggest secret of all was the question that were never on anyone's lips, but always on their minds – where _did_ the Davenport fortune come from?

It came from within those walls.

Shelby leant against the drinks table, his shirt sleeves rolled up, hair ruffled as he drowsily poured himself another scotch and pulled down his gold cravat. Shelby was their charm – lavish parties for the respectable and unsavoury. Oilmen and lawmen, bankers and bandits – all of them were welcome, provided they spent enough money.

Ambrose was leaning against the fireplace, a hand in his pocket as his eyes watched the crackling fire in their hearth. Despite being the middle child of Davenport brothers, he had a stout air of responsibility to him. The Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders were who he dealt with. He kept them in line and brokered deals, giving them tips on who to rob – namely, anyone who rivalled them.

The third and youngest Davenport was Roy, who was sat in the burgundy leather armchair by the crackling fire, a smoking cigar slid between his two fingers as he watched Ambrose pace. Roy never worried like his older brother – nor did Shelby, but that was because he felt he lacked the forehead for brooding.

"They're getting worse, Roy," Ambrose muttered, "Believe you me."

"If you say so, Ambrose…" Shelby sighed, bored, as he passed Roy the glass of scotch and walked back to the cabinet.

"I'm telling you- both of y'all, their ambitions are too high-"

"Yes, well, if they weren't, they wouldn't need our support, would they?" Roy raised an eyebrow as he examined the scotch. "It's a tad early to start, isn't it Shelby?"

"Start?" Shelby furrowed his brow as he finished pouring a drink, clanking the crystal decanter closed.

"That wagon," Ambrose informed Roy, "that was heading up to Fort Riggs? No payment's come through, Roy."

This is when Roy's fingers squeezed and clenched that cigar. His place in the family – his purpose was making them money. Wealth was his business. He turned his eldest brother's perversions into capital and favours owed. Like a blacksmith, he'd moulded Ambrose's determination and put it to good use. Roy was something more than a businessman – he was an artist.

"The goods were delivered?" He asked quietly.

"Guns were picked up from the train station, so…" Ambrose shrugged.

"So?" Roy asked curtly.

"The guns were delivered and the Brotherhood haven't paid us." Ambrose turned to look to Shelby, whose face was vacant. "That's theft."

"A bloody outrage!" Shelby slurred, raising the glass.

"Mr. Cooper." Roy puffed on his cigar as the scarred, rough-and-tumble man walked forwards from the corner of the room. "Round up the boys to pay a visit to Shady Belle with Ambrose and tell those Rebel patriots we demand two hundred dollars for the guns plus an extra twenty for their tardiness." Thomas Cooper nodded and went to walk away. "Actually…" Roy held up a finger, thinking. "Have Avery take them."

"Roy," Ambrose said softly, glancing over to Thomas before leaning down to talk to his brother, "Avery's just… he's a boy-"

"He's a man now," Roy replied. "As old as you were when you started-"

"We did this so the rest of our family wouldn't have to."

Roy's bright green eyes settled on Ambrose's light brown. "It's high time that he pulls his weight," Roy said curtly as he rose from his chair, standing a few inches shorter than his brother. "Rome wasn't built in a day and Rhodes wasn't neither. If Avery isn't helping us, he'll surely be out causing trouble."

"As is his right as a young man," Shelby pointed out, gesturing with his glass of scotch before finishing it fully. Ambrose swallowed and clenched his jaw before giving a stiff nod. He knew that the Davenports were hardy because they had to be. What made them strong was their willingness to fight. And though Avery did mean a lot to him… well, if his niece, Genevieve, was willing to use a gun, it was only fitting that Avery put his own skills to use.

Roy moved across the room to pour himself another scotch. "Val is throwing a cotillion on Monday evening for Miss Jean Barlow."

"Another one?" Ambrose asked, brow furrowed.

"Paradise offers. You know how she gets about these parties…" Roy rubbed his forehead. "Women and these notions…"

"It's not just women," Shelby frowned, "everyone loves a party- _I_ love a party-"

"What you do is not a cotillion, Shelby," Roy said pointedly to his brother, "I've heard about your exploits from Mr. Cooper."

"I'm sure he blushed when he told you…" Shelby smiled at the grizzled Englishman.

Roy pulled out his platinum pocket watch and put down his glass on the maple table. "I'm to go with Genevieve into town. Shelby – we'll discuss your antics later."

"I'm giddy…" Shelby drowsily murmured as he picked up Roy's glass, only for Roy to take it from his hands and pass it over to Thomas.

"Mr. Cooper. Accompany me to Genevieve, would you?"

"Mr. Davenport." Thomas nodded as he drank the scotch and cast his good eye across Shelby before turning to follow his employer.

* * *

Genevieve was sat in the dining room with Valentina and Paradise. Women weren't particularly permitted into the business meetings, which confused Genevieve – she was certain that her mother was no stranger to this, given her maiden name was Martelli. But she'd heard rumours of what business her family did and didn't particularly want any part in it. That being said, she would take a meeting about the Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders over lunch with Paradise.

"You shouldn't spend all day in bed," Valentina told Genevieve, "you're going to feel tired all day."

"She's not tired, just moody as always." Paradise smirked to Valentina.

"Paradise…" Valentina raised an eyebrow at her youngest before turning back to her eldest. "What are your plans for the remainder of the day?"

"Mr. Durand wishes to call on me today…" Genevieve muttered.

"Has he proposed yet?" Valentina had barely finished her question when Paradise interrupted.

"When am _I_ going to get a match?"

"Soon, Pari-"

"But someone better than a bank manager?" Paradise asked sternly.

"I'm better than a wife of a _bank manager_…"

"Pari, stop it, you're being rude," Valentina tried to sound stern. "It's a fine match, Genny, don't listen to her."

"I never do…" Genevieve muttered as she turned over the spaghetti on her plate.

"What does that mean?" Paradise scowled.

"I'm sure your delicate little brain can figure it-"

"Genevieve-"

The doors opened and Roy entered, his coat in one hand as he puffed on his cigar. "There's my three best women," Roy said with a smile as he began to pull on his coat. "Genevieve, nice to see you in the house, for once." Genevieve shook her head and stood up, taking her coat from the servant.

"Where are you going?" Paradise asked, her eyes frantically passing from her sister to her father.

"Just into town for a bit," Roy said.

"Why are you taking _her_ and not me?" Paradise placed her silver cutlery down on the polished table.

"Does it matter, Pari?" Genevieve sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Of course it matters!" Paradise stood up and crossed her arms. "Why _her_ and not _me_?"

"Because-" Genevieve began.

"Because you and _I_ are going to do something," Valentina said quickly. "Just us two." Genevieve rolled her eyes at her mother while Paradise turned to face her, face lit up.

"We are? What?"

"We're going to…" Valentina bit her lip for a moment and stood up. "You and I are going to take your horse to the stables and get her all groomed. She'll look like a beauty."

"But not Genny's, yes?" Paradise raised an eyebrow.

"Paradise, why are-" Roy pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, that's right," Genevieve said finally. "Whatever makes you happy…"

* * *

In the dark and dusty range of desert, a predator prowled. Padding its paws and walking closer, its teeth bared, amber eyes unblinking as it crawled closer. Its legs where coiled and its gold coat pressed down to the dirt as it ever so slowly moved forwards. Its hind reared up as its tail gently swung up high and it lunged forwards.

Lana awoke with a start, rubbing her eyes as she looked around the campsight. She'd never been this awake – her heart was hammering in her throat and each breath she took seemed to disappear inside her, no matter how many she took.

They'd set up camp in Scarlett Meadows an hour before. It was nothing Lana was used to – the grass, the red clay… the only thing she felt at ease with was the heat. It reminded her of Mexico, of those long days spent on the patio with her father, drinking atole in the morning and

She looked down to see she had knocked her cup of coffee over her journal. Thankfully it was bound by coarse leather – not the type to be ruined by some shit-tasting _café_.

She waved her journal dry and picked up her tin cup, walking over to the campfire. It was always built first, before any of the tents. This was because _Abuela_ didn't want anyone going to bed hungry and… well, most of the gang weren't the best when it came to more domestic roles. But, since Lana had done her deal of the chores over the past few years, she was one of the first to set her tent up. Then, per _Abuela_'s instruction, set up Rune's tent – the biggest of them all. It was no surprise why it needed to be that size – after all, Rune had many little chats with Aiden, Parker, Luca, Near- everyone who was anyone.

Luca, Matty and Aiden were sat down next to the campfire, watching their latest addition, Elvira Colt, try to set up the tents. They chuckled as they watched her struggle with the poles and lines. Aiden smoked a cigarette while Matty and Luca commentated her attempts.

"Signorita Huerta, you've put up tents," Luca said happily, "why don't you show Miss Colt where she's going wrong?" Lana folded her arms and stared at Luca with squinted eyes. "What?"

Lana shook her head and knelt down to pour herself some coffee. "_Hijo de perra_…" Lana muttered to herself as she stood up and walked away from the three young men. How many times over the past few months had they been alone together? How many times had there been a moment where one would linger in front of the other? And now he was talking to her as if none of it had happened.

It was only a couple of minutes later (when Lana was about to go hunting with Near) that Aiden walked over to Lana's tent. She was sat outside, a birch carbine repeater in her hands as he came closer. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Lana responded curtly. There was a pause as Aiden leant against the wooden pole of her tent.

"Alice ain't gettin' you into mischief?"

"Not nearly enough…" Lana huffed.

"So it's just Luca that's got you feeling like this?"

Lana scowled at Aiden for a moment before sighing. "I don't know, Aiden…" she murmured.

"Didn't mean nothing by it." Aiden held up his hands. "Just makin' conversation."

"He just…" Lana licked her lips as she looked across camp to see young Charlotte sitting on Ava's lap as the red-haired beauty powdered her cheeks. "He spends so much time with Ava…" Lana said finally.

"Right…" Aiden frowned.

"Well, and she's… y'know…"

"…French?"

Lana cracked a smile and nodded. "_Si_, she's French." She looked up at Aiden's hazel eyes for a moment. This was nice – him being… well, not like before. "I can trust him, can't I?"

"Luca?" Aiden glanced over his shoulder to see Luca eating. Aiden looked back to Lana and shrugged.

"Do you think he's trustworthy?"

Aiden let out a genuine laugh. "I think Luca can be a slippery little snake when it comes to most things and folk, but when it's with one of us…" Aiden scratched his jaw. "Well, he's one of the better ones. Not that it's hard to be around here but… still."

Lana couldn't help but smile at this. Despite what had happened between her and Aiden, despite his word being law in absence of Rune… well, it was good to know they were still friends. Or, as Aiden said it, family. "Thank you, Aiden."  
"Sure."

It felt strange to be back in West Lemoyne. After all, this was home to Luca for a long time and a great deal of his life had been travelling from Rhodes to Ridgewood Farm and back again, peddling snake oil and tonics.

But he enjoyed it here. The red dirt was kicked up into a cloud and sat across the troughs of the lush green hills like fog or puddles. And, in the distance, he could see the Flat Iron Lake. There was something about being able to make out Blackwater in the distance… it reassured him that they were far enough away. After all, it had been… what, four years since that robbery? Once he changed his clothes, he doubted they'd identify him. After all, Luca had been flogging the same snake oil to the same people for nearly a decade. He knew how to look like a new man.

"Uncle Luca," came the young voice of Charlotte as she approached the table where Matty and Luca sat. "Ava said you'll play with me!"

"Did she?" Luca cast an eye over Ava. "I would, _mimma_, but I've got a job to do with Uncle Matty."

"I can come."

Matty let out a laugh. "Ey, she'd been a fine little robber. Could crawl up the chimney and find all the money stashed away…"

"Y'ain't being-"

"Course I ain't!" Matty scoffed. "Just having a laugh…"

"Funny. You should consider a career on-stage."

"Aye, means a lot coming from the showman of the outfit," Matty chortled before looking to Charlotte. "Away with yourself, Charlie, me and the Dago've got business." Matty and Luca turned back to the map of Scarlett Meadows and left Charlotte to dawdle through camp.

* * *

A few logs were corralled around a campfire. On these logs, several pelts were tossed on. Wolf, buckskin and cougar – most were the result of Night's Hawk being a part of the gang. The lad knew how to hunt and, more importantly, how to skin.

Rune sat by the fire, dragging his razor across his jaw – his beard was too thick for the heat of Rhodes. Besides, the salt-and-pepper colouring of his beard was not a gentle reminder that he was in his forties. He needed to think about getting out of this life… they all did.

Beside Rune was Father Elijah, whose priest's garb was tattered and worn. He stroked a hand across his beard and continued reading his book as Aiden sat down next to him. It wasn't easy for a forty-two year old Rune and a forty-four year old Elijah to see a young man, only twenty-eight, sitting down beside them. Rune could still remember when he struggled to grow a full beard…

"Beautiful place, ain't it?" Rune said quietly, looking around at the fields.

"God's own country…" Elijah nodded.

"It's just a shame it's inhabited by such vile people…" Rune glanced over to Elijah. "Your people, Father," he said as he cut into a green apple, "German?"

"My mother's people were German," Elijah explained, "and my daddy, well… he wasn't much other than a slave to the devil."

"The Devil?" Rune asked, eyebrow raised.

"You doubt that?"

"I've seen enough to know that we don't need the devil to do evil things."

"I believe there is a devil inside every man, Mr. Brody. That is what evil is…"

Rune's blue-grey eyes shifted to Aiden. "What about you, brother? Is the devil inside us all or are we all just a little bit evil?"

"Does it matter?" Aiden shrugged.

Elijah and Rune share a laugh. "You're just a tad brainless, aren't you, brother?"

"No doubt…" Aiden placed the cigarette in his mouth and struck a match across his spurs. His hazel eyes squinted as the red-haired shootist, Alice MacKenzie, approached, winking at Matty as her hips swung like a pendulum.

Rune got to his feet. "C'mon, Aiden, you and I are going to head into town – see what trouble we can stir up…"

"If you're looking for trouble, Rune…" Alice began

"You have done quite enough, Miss MacKenzie," Rune said sternly.

* * *

As Rune and Aiden set out for Rhodes, Parker sat down with Near Simmons, who was sat at the table with numerous rolled-up maps. Parker wasn't quite sure what Near was looking for, but it was the most energy he'd seen in the old man.

"How did you get all these?" Parker asked as he examined the scrawled plants and names on the paper.

Near slapped Parker's hand away. "I drew them."

"Really?" Parker frowned, genuinely confused. "_That_'s drawing?"

Near kicked Parker with his good leg and turned back to the maps. "There's a few spots we used to lie low. I'm hoping I'll find some clues at one of them."

"Clues about what?"

"Parker, son," Near said as he straightened up, collecting his maps, "you're young- and probably the smartest one outta all of us but… this is work for killers." Near glanced over to Matty and Luca and called them over.

Parker cleared his throat. "Listen, old man, I'm not much of a gunman and I'm certainly no killer, but I can still…" Parker coughed. "I can pull my own…" Parker coughed again, thumping his chest.

"What's with Doc?" Matty's Irish voice chimed as he strutted past the young coughing man. "He tried to smoke one of Rune's cigars?" Matty chortled.

"I reckon it's this Southern air," Luca responded, hands in his purple trouser pockets, "don't agree with his soft limey lungs."

"Boys," Near said softly, raising an eyebrow.

"We's only joshing," Matty said innocently, slapping Parker heavily on the back. "Ain't that right, boyo?"

"Right…" Parker cleared his throat once again, wiping the sweat from his brow. Near's deep brown eyes roved across Parker's face.

"Stick to what you're good at, Doc. Boys, you found that house yet?"

"Sure," Luca said, grinning at Parker and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Catfish Jacksons. Some ol' bastard drinks himself blind there, and his kid's no shootist." Matty gave a smug chuckle.

"Alright then, let's to it," Near said as he picked up his rifle and limped away to the horses with Matty and Luca, leaving Parker standing at the table, coughing and spitting. But this time, he was coughing up blood.

* * *

Shady Belle was in the Bayou Nwa of Lemoyne. A large colonial house spat into the alligator-infested swamps. Four large pillars of chipped white paint held up the creaking roof with a chimney on each side. An old, battered fountain, once proud but now empty bullet-ridden, sat out front. Vines crawled up the pillars and creeped across the balcony that overlooked the road in.

Avery Davenport was seventeen but he could shoot like no-one else. He'd been fascinated with guns since as long as he could remember and, from how his daddy told it, he'd been shooting them since before he could even dress himself. He was a wisp of a boy – lithe for his age. Long-legged and dainty with tussled waves of golden-brown hair. Avery had inherited his Uncle Shelby's love of clothes amongst other things – he wore a dyed blue gunbelt with a pair of glistening blue Schofield Revolvers on each hip, holsters angled for a crossdraw.

Before Ambrose could pull his son close and tell him to be wary, men began to fall into sight. Some of them resembled the Lemoyne Raiders – wearing their dirtied and dishevelled confederate uniforms. Others wore the tattered overalls of former farmers – new recruits.

An onslaught of barking made Avery jump and reach across for his gun. He looked over to the rickety gazebo, where a long-limbed man sat on the cracked wooden steps. Around him, only barely heeling, was a pack of dogs. A black Shepard bitch, bloodhound, rottweiler and mastiff. The Dogkeeper's face was scarred – claw marks from taming his pack. Bright and sharp blue eyes glinted as he examined Avery with a smirk. A hand ran through his mousy brown braids as the Dogkeeper got to his feet, revealing the scarred, charred and roughly cut boar pelts that seemed to resemble a poncho. He took a boar leg from his rottweiler and gnawed off some raw meat, maintaining eye contact with Avery.

"No-one knows his real name," came the slick, southern twang of a young man that sat on the fountain, "so we call him the Dogkeeper."

Avery looked over to see the young man sharpening a knife. Ambrose knew this fella well – he was called Lot, and his purpose in the Brotherhood was a more… specialist area. Whereas most of them were gunmen, Lot saw himself as more of an artist. An artist with a knife in place of a brush, who painted with only one colour.

"Quite imaginative," Avery replied, licking his lips.

"Mr. Davenport," Lot looked up to Ambrose with dark, shifty eyes. "Ain't seen y'all round for a while…"

"I come when necessary, you know that…" Ambrose glanced over his shoulder to his own retainers (who carried rifles) before looking back to Lot. "You know why I'm here?"

"I suppose y'all are wanting to talk to Isiah…" Lot shrugged as he began to dawdled around the fountain. A spindly fellow, hair dark and oily like the black armour of a spider. "I's 'fraid he's occupied."

"Occupied?" Ambrose growled.

"Busy- too busy for your business," Lot enunciated each word for Ambrose with a thick southern accent. It was when Lot came closer that Avery could make out the heavy red scars of acne scratched across his face.

"Isiah Maxwell took our guns and hasn't paid. That makes him a thief unless he pays two hundred and fifty dollars-"

"The guns cost two hundred." Everyone looked to see who had spoken. A young man, roughly as old as Avery. He was, in short, fairly handsome. Dark brown hair, a layer of stubble pepper across his jaw, standing a good head above Avery. His green almonds of eyes drifted across the retainers with suspicion as his hand gently rested on the burnt leather grip of his revolver, studded with a steel snake. "Who's this cheeky little gunfighter?" The boy said as he looked at Avery.

"My son, Avery."

"Son?" The boy turned his nose up as he swaggered forwards, looking Avery up and down. Avery puffed his chest out and tightened his grip on the handle of his revolver. "Don't look like much…"

"That's what every man I've killed said," Avery responded. The boy's head cocked to the side and spat onto the floor. "We ain't got your guns. Couple of fellas over in New Hanover stole the wagon," the boy said as he set eyes on Ambrose. "You understand, don't ya, Davenport?"

Ambrose nodded. "I understand perfectly. See, y'all're a bunch of milksops." Avery looked over to his father, flabbergasted by his cavalier demeanour as the Brotherhood rose to their feet and began to encircle the Davenports and their retainers.

"What?"

"Well, to be robbed by a 'couple of fellas', you have to be outgunned or outsmarted. And when you're carrying a goddamn wagon full of rifles, you ain't gonna be outgunned, so what I'm thinkin' is… you's got outsmarted by a couple of shit-for-brains cattle rustlers."

The boy drew his gun lazily and clicked back the hammer, putting the barrel in Ambrose's face. "Y'all come here looking for a problem?"

Ambrose cocked his head to the side, mirroring the young man less than half his age. "Pay us the money or find a new benefactor." Ambrose's light brown eyes fixed on the boy's emerald before he looked around at the rest of the Brotherhood. "This is a direct order. In the name of the Davenports, you've all been warned."

* * *

The parlour house in Rhodes consisted of a small white balcony that overlooked the red clay road that ran through town. On this balcony, Rune leant against the wooden railing, marvelling at the town. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before – fine ladies and gentlemen, walking around in their expensive clothes. It was everything he'd fought for in the army – a new America, a civilized America.

"Oh, I do detest this place, brother…" Rune grinned to himself as he looked around to see Aiden, who slipped a carton back into his green vest before lighting a cigarette. "What's your thought?"

"On what?" Aiden mumbled, mouth half-clenched around the cigarette. Rune responded with a chuckle, stretching his arms out wide. "I dunno…" Aiden shrugged.

"Oh, come on," Rune laughed. "Have a- a modicum of intelligence."

Aiden rolled his eyes and looked around. "It's…" Aiden shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

"Something. Anything that ain't filled with worry or about when we're going to leave this life…"

Aiden groaned and poured himself a glass of whiskey, handing the bottle to Rune. "It's…" He rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw and shrugged. Rune shook his head, disappointed and poured himself a drink. Aiden glanced out across the town, watching a fine lady walk with her thick, dark hair. The man next to her was in a fine suit and a dark bowler hat. "They ain't real folk," Aiden said finally. "I mean, they… they don't hunt their own food. They don't… they change their clothes for a damn meal. Used to be that you were valued by what you could do, but now it's just… how much money you got."

Rune's mouth twitched into a proud smile as he leant forwards. "I've taught you well, son." Aiden felt something in his chest – something warm. Something he only vaguely felt when Near called him 'son'. But with Rune… Aiden supposed that he was his son. Rune raised his glass. "To the only real folk left in the world," Rune said. Aiden grinned and clinked his glass against Rune's.

Aiden finished the glass of whiskey and was about to pour himself another when he heard some commotion across from the main road. He rose from his chair to see a man being dragged behind a black Mustang. Aiden recognized him – the striped uniform of chain gang, the shaggy hair, the hollow face…

* * *

Genevieve was standing on the small knoll, watching the escaped prisoner get trussed up and placed before the noose beneath the lowest branch of the great tree. Some murderer – lay with men also.

She didn't particularly… well, it's not that she thought it was a _normal _thing to do, Heavens, no. Genevieve just… didn't care. Did it matter? She found it hard to think anything did when… well, her life hardly mattered did it? Maybe there was something wrong with her, because she knew that the hanging of anyone, even if they're named a sodomizing murderer like Montague Roberts, was a sad thing. She _knew_ that, but she didn't feel anything.

Genevieve looked across the hill, her blue eyes shifting across each of the citizens that called out for Roberts' blood. But, arriving at the back of the crowd were two men. The first was tired-looking. His blue-grey eyes squinted at Roberts before removing his light stalker hat, revealing his greying hair. The man beside him was considerably younger. Around the same height with dark hair and a thin layer of stubble sitting on his jaw. He was the man's son, surely. But he laid eyes on the man and removed his brown leather hat, his jaw clenching as he cast his hazel eyes across the crowd.

Two men whom Genevieve had never seen before, paying their respects to the murdering sodomite. What sort of men were they? This was the same question on Roy Davenport's mind as he looked at the same pair of men with his daughter. He gestured for Thomas Cooper to lean forward and whispered into his ear.

"Mr. Cooper, find out what you can about these… ruffians, will you? Their names, where they're from…" Roy glanced back to the pair of men, examining their revolvers. "Who are they working for?"

"Mr. Davenport." Thomas nodded, straightening up and examining the two men, who put their hats back on and threw their cigarettes away onto the grass.

**Nearly 10 pages… would you believe I've already written a Western novel? Yeah, did it for my MA. Hopefully someone publishes it, eh?**

**Anyhoo, thank you all for being so, so, SO, so, SO patient with this. I appreciate all the support and remember to leave a review. I'll see you guys… soon-ish?**

**R.**


	3. Send a Message

**So, guys, here's the next chapter. I know, it's only been two days but… yup, here we go. Aaaaand enjoy.**

_22__nd__ June 1902_

_Caliga Hall, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

The heat wasn't the most unbearable thing in summer in Rhodes. Of course, the dust stuck to the sweat on your skin, insects buzzed around and you had to change your shirt every so often if you were a gentleman, but in spite of all that, Genevieve was not annoyed by the heat. Not nearly as much as she was by Paradise complaining about the heat.

"It's _so_ hot…" Paradise whinged as she placed a wet cloth on her forehead, lounging across one of the chairs as if she were Ophelia.

"I know," Genevieve responded curtly as she turned a page of her book.

"Why is it so _hot_?"

"Because the Earth is closer to the sun…" Genevieve responded. Paradise gave a mocking laugh before sitting up.

"Let's go out!"

"Where?"

"Saint Denis!"

"And do what?"

"Go to see a show!"

"No." Genevieve looked at her book once more.

"Oh, I know that's it's all blacks and chinamen and they smell as bad as the factories but we can still have fun! Tommy can protect us-"

"Mr. Cooper is with father," Genevieve informed her sister.

Paradise slumped down for a moment, tapping her knee before talking again. "Let's go for a ride!"

"Where?"

"Into town!"

"God, no…" Genevieve scoffed. "Mr. Durand might be there…"

"Why are you such a misery?" Paradise frowned. "You're always so moody-"

"I'm reading, Pari."

Paradise stood up and looked at the book. "Who even reads Evelyn Miller anymore? You know he was fired from Princeton?"

"That's just a vicious rumour."

"What would _you_ know? You're so in love with him?"

"Evelyn Miller understands that America is freedom. Not… plaiting a horse's tail…" Genevieve muttered as she stood up, looking around. "When's father back?" Paradise shrugged and then smiled, jumping to her feet.

"Mama says we need new clothes for the cotillion tomorrow!"

"What?" Genevieve sighed, brow furrowed in exasperation.

"The cotillion?" Paradise said slowly. "We need new dresses- let's go into Saint Denis-"

"I don't much fancy sitting on a train with you for however long it takes to-"

"Well, Rhodes then. Genny?" Paradise pouted. Genevieve crossed her arms.

"That works on mother and father, but not on me."

"Oh, Gen-" Paradise groaned. "Fine, can you _please_ come with me? I'd appreciate it."

Genevieve had no interest whatsoever in going, but… well, Paradise _was_ still her sister. And if she was prepared to ask politely – this would be a good way to show her sister that acting like an adult rather than brat worked. Genevieve placed her book down on the table and called the servants to bring around their horses.

* * *

The mood at camp was happier than usual. Young Charlotte had accompanied Aiden and Near fishing earlier and skipped back towards camp as the two men carried a small bucket of fish. Paloma was cutting up the fish as Charlotte sat at the table, watching Luca shuffle cards, snap his fingers and then conjure up an ace of diamonds out of nowhere. He'd clap his hands and suddenly it'd disappear, much to Charlotte's wonderment.

Rune's grey-blue eyes flickered over to Parker, who slowly moved Near's leg, examining his knee. Matty sat next to Alice, playing high-jinks (a game Alice had been fond of, as her father had taught it to her).

Elijah approached Rune, his sleeves rolled up and collar loose around his neck. "Mr. Brody."

"Father." Rune was… disgruntled with the man. He didn't fully trust anyone that had a faith to anything beyond the gang. And the priest was just encouraging Parker's moral conflicts. Rune needed the gang strong, not questioning everything. Uncertainty meant death, he knew that from his time fighting for Uncle Sam.

"Mr. Brody, I don't suppose you have a moment?" Rune glanced to Elijah and dipped his head for a moment before gesturing for Elijah to continue talking. "I've been… I've been thinking about Charlotte. Her soul, specifically."

Rune snickered. "And _what_ exactly have you thought about her soul?"

"Well…" Elijah sighed. "I mean, I care for her, Mr. Brody, I care for her as if she was my own, but…" Rune's steel eyes flickered up to Elijah as he mentioned Charlotte as his daughter. "I wish to baptise her. To preserve the hope that she may someday find paradise."

Rune kept his breathing level. "I joined the army and fought against the natives. I fought at Tall Trees in '78, was promoted for valour and made 2nd Lieutenant. Promoted to first in '82. In '85, I witnessed a massacre of men, women and children that was like nothing I'd dare imagine before…" Rune closed his hand so it wouldn't shake as he remembered seeing so much blood that he'd though God would've flooded the Earth once more. "By the time I was a man, I'd seen all the dark corners of America's heart."

"It's an-"

"When the choice came to kill Frederick Herridge for what he'd done, I did so, not out of anger or revenge, but because there was nobody that I owed allegiance to beyond my own family." Rune took a step towards Elijah. "Charlotte ain't your daughter. And I'll be hanged before I let you fill her head with nonsense about a God who looks out for her."

"Rune!" Matty called from across the camp. "Ey, Rune, we've got visitors…"

* * *

Roy hadn't seen such primitive nature before. Perhaps he'd been in privilege too long, but even the Brotherhood had something resembling a house. But this place, with their wagons and tents… it wasn't a hideout, it was a camp.

"You're sure it's them?" Roy asked Thomas lowly.

"I'm sure, sir."

Roy nodded and walked forwards. He had no other retainers – Thomas had six bullets in his revolver and five shells in his silver pump-action shotgun. He trusted in the abilities of Ol' Thomas Cooper and his one good eye.

Members of the Yankee gang began to take notice, walking closer. Two women and a man, all with red hair, watched Roy and Thomas. One of them, who wore a fine azure gown, was like a goddess. If he were the sort to take his vows as hollow as others, he may've been swayed…

"Aveline Delacroix," Thomas muttered in Roy's ear. "Matty Donnelly and Alice MacKenzie…"

Roy nodded as he saw the man, Matty, pick up a shotgun and walk forwards with Alice. Roy turned to see an old black fella with another half-coloured young man. "The limey Lee-Fremont, and the other's Near Simmons…"

Roy knew the name well. He'd already heard of the exploits – about what you could expect of men that colour… He looked up to see a man similar to his own age, dressed in dark clothes with a greying beard. His hard pale eyes examined Roy with curiosity as he cocked his head to the side. A dishevelled preacher was beside him.

"Rune Brody, Mr. Davenport…" Hushed whispers surrounded Roy and Thomas as they came closer. Thomas noticed Near whistle before grabbed his double-barrelled shotgun and tossing it over to a young, broad-shouldered man with dark hair. The young man caught the gun and began to make his way towards Rune, carrying the gun in his left hand. "Aiden McKneil."

Roy nodded. Finally, his foot froze mid-step as a rifle hammer clicked and Matty grabbed Roy on the shoulder, pushing him back into place. "Far enough, boyo, don't y'reckon?"

Roy crossed his arms and looked back to see Rune standing in front of his tent, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. "Mr. Brody," Roy said before looking to Matty. "Mr. Donnelly here feels threatened by me." Matty glanced over to Rune before looking back to Roy with squinting eyes. Rune grinned and jerked his head to Matty, who immediately took a step back, lowering his shotgun. "Mr. Rune Brody, that infamous Yankee soldier…"

"You've got us as a disadvantage, mister," Rune said.

Roy smirked as he looked around the camp some more. "Miss MacKenzie should be dressed as your Miss… Delacroix. I am pronouncing that correctly, aren't I miss?" Roy asked Ava before turning back to Aiden. "Young Mr. McKneil, I know you as well." Aiden didn't respond.

"And you are?"

Roy looked around the camp some more, his eyes settling on the Mexican woman and crone (mother and daughter, perhaps?), the old black man and the teenage Native. "My, oh my, you boys _are_ fond of pets, aren't you?"

Near grabbed Night's Hawk by the arm, holding him in place. "Don't, son…" Near murmured.

Out of one of the tents came Luca D'Angelo, leading Charlotte by the hand. He froze upon clapping eyes on Roy, smile dissipating completely. Roy, however, beamed. "Signor D'Angelo!" Roy said loudly. "Good to see you again, mister. How are you keeping?"

"I…" Luca stumbled forwards. "Very well, sir, thank you." He shook Roy's hand and looked to Rune. "Rune, this here, this is Roy Davenport. Local lawyer and landowner."

Rune's eyebrow cocked up as he heard the name. "Heard quite a bit about you…" Rune glanced to Aiden and waved a hand, watching him place the shotgun over his shoulder. Rune stretched out a hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And I you, Mr. Brody." Roy shook Rune's hand. "We've had an issue with gangs, in the past…" Roy's green eyes shifted over to Rune and smiled. "No fear, Mr. Brody, I care very little for what the law may care you. No, I… I wish to utilize you."

There was a pause as Aiden and glanced over to Rune, waiting for a command. Thomas moved his coat away, so as to let the cool breeze kiss the sweat from his neck. He revealed his Schofield revolver.

"What's you-tea-lies mean?" Matty frowned.

"Means to use," Aiden murmured lowly.

"Is he your student, Mr. Brody?" Roy's eyes fixed on Aiden and he smiled. "You see, the Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders do some work for us. Procuring guns, moonshine- it's all side business, if you will. Only lately they've been more taken with their cause against…" Roy's eyes flickered back to Near. "Lesser types."

"So?" Rune said curtly.

"So, I'd appreciate it if you took over their role for us. You'd have my protection from the law in the rest of Lemoyne, and all you'd have to do is pay me half."

"Half?" Matty yelped.

"Half of whatever you find 'round these parts. Any and all of you- so as to ensure the rest of the law in Lemoyne… see things the way I do."

"Oh, so none of that money's staying in your pocket?" Aiden said sarcastically.

"Aiden!" Rune hissed.

"Oh, c'mon, we ain't _really_ listening to this fool, are we?"

"Careful, boy," Thomas muttered as he took a step towards Aiden, looking down on him. "Watch your mouth or I'll knock your teeth out…" Aiden looked into Thomas' dead eye and flexed a hand by the white carving of the eagle on the hilt of his black cattleman. Thomas pulled on the redwood handle of his Schofield, his fingers closing around the carved initials on the hilt. "Go on, boy."

"You want me to blow a goddamn hole in your head?" Aiden growled.

"Aiden-"

"Is that what you want?" Aiden took a step to Thomas, only for Matty to put a hand on Aiden's shoulder and cool his temper.

"Aiden!" Rune barked. Aiden glanced back up to Rune and, upon seeing his stern face, took a breath to steady himself, sliding his cattleman revolver back into it's dark brow holster. Rune stepped forwards and rubbed his beard. "We'll have to give your offer some thought, Mr. Davenport."

"Of course," Roy said. "Discipline your attack dog, and I'll do the same." Roy was about to turn when he paused, a smile creeping on his face as he examined Luca D'Angelo's tattered clothes. "In fact, I have a better idea…" he smiled. "There's a cotillion tomorrow night at Caliga Hall- you're familiar, aren't you Luca?"  
"I know it, yeah."

"You're invited to come along, as long as you can… keep that hot temper of yours cool." Roy glimpsed at Aiden for less than a second. "Dress nicely, maybe wash yourselves… oh, and, leave the pets at home." Roy gestured to Lana. "I don't permit animals on my land that I can't eat or ride."

Rune's jaw clenched as he watched Roy turn around and leave with Thomas. As soon as they mounted their horses and rode away, Aiden rushed to Rune's side. "The hell was that?"

"A condescending Rebel ass," Rune murmured.

"I thought we were robbing the bastard, now you want to go to his garden party?"

"We need money-"

"We ain't no hired thugs!"

"Ain't no sense in making enemies outta folk upon first meeting," Rune explained. "We need money and we need to lie low- Davenport is giving us an opportunity for both."

"Rune, I know the Davenports a fair bit," Luca said quietly, leaving Charlotte's side. "The visit was a courtesy, and this cotillion is on their land- they have an advantage. We shouldn't go in half-cocked on this…"

"Aye, we should be as high as a feckin' rock!" Matty agreed, grabbing his crotch.

"Charming," Rune murmured.

"Ain't I?"

"Mr. Simmons!" Rune called across to the old man. "You take over watch of camp. Abuela, you as well- Aiden, Luca, Parker – let's get ready to mingle with high society!" The men chuckled together as Aiden frowned. He didn't have any place at some cotillion, and he didn't want to be there neither.

"Take Ava instead of me. I ain't too fond of that sort…"

"Ey, yous getting all scared of the big bad cyclops, McKneil?" Matty chortled. "Turnin' all yellow, are ya?"

"I just prefer robbin' them to sipping fancy wine and the like."

"Miss Avaline!" Rune began to lead the small group of them along. "You should accompany us tomorrow night."

"Not me?" Came the sly voice of Alice. Rune turned around to face her with a stern expression.

"Last two towns we've been to, you've shot some fool. We don't want no unwanted attention."

Alice pouted at Aiden. "You telling daddy lies 'bout me?"

"I got better things to do than talk 'bout you-"

"Aw, don't be mad…"

"Enough bickering, you two," Rune snapped, "Now, Aiden, I want you with me. They could be easily trying to pull something, and I'd much rather have you by my side."

Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose – he knew it wouldn't be a trap, he just didn't want to spend the night surrounded by sycophants. He glanced over to Near, who gave the slightest of nods. Aiden licked his lips and nodded to Rune. "Just don't leave me alone with those bastards…"

* * *

In the north of Lemoyne, an old pig farm stood amidst the fields. True, once it had belonged to a family of four, but then the parents died, and so did the children and the house was left empty. No pigs at the pig farm.

Instead, there was Garrett Brown. He was only eighteen – a boy, to most folk. He'd never really wanted to join the Brotherhood, but what else was there? It was join or be torn apart by a pack of dogs for being a sympathiser. He might not've agreed with what they were doing, but he wasn't going to die for some noble lost cause. Black folk were black and white folk were white – he just saw the colours, but not everyone else saw it like that.

He lay on the cracked wooden floorboards at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the kitchen which had been torn apart. In the centre of the room lay the body of his big brother, Benjamin. They looked so alike that many mistook them for twins.

Standing over Benjamin was a silhouette. A figure wrapped up in black with narrowed blue eyes that watched Benjamin struggle to breathe. "Where is Maxwell?" The figure growled.

"I don't… which one?"

"Both of them," the figure growled. "I want Isiah, I want Gareth- I want all of you sons of bitches dead!"

Benjamin shook his head. "I can't…"

"Then I'll feed you your brother's heart…" The figure rose to her feet and made her way over to Garrett.

"Stop, damn you…" Benjamin groaned as he stretched out a hand. "He's near Rhodes! We've moved to this old place, we're doing jobs for old man Davenport!"

The figure nodded as she looked back to Garrett, who couldn't understand why his legs weren't moving. Why couldn't he feel them? The woman's round lips parted as she approached Garrett. "He can't walk," she explained. "He'd be a cripple if he lived." She sank her knife deep into Garrett's throat and pushed down until the hilt was wet with blood.

"You damn whore…" Benjamin whined, eyes stinging with tears as he looked at the woman's dark blonde hair was tied back into a thick braid. She tugged her knife free and rounded on Benjamin.

"You…" the woman pointed at Benjamin with a knife, "I'm going to use you to send a message."

"I ain't delivering no message for you," Benjamin spat the words at her. She crouched down in front of him.

"Oh, don't worry…" She grabbed him by the throat. "You ain't going to need to talk for me…"

And all that was heard for the next hour was Benjamin's screams.

**So, some of you (hopefully most of you) will know who that was in the last POV. If you've got no idea, you really need to read the first couple of instalments first… or don't, whatever, I'm not the boss of you, do what you want.**

**Next chapter will be up… actually, that one will take quite a while 'cos there's ****_way_**** too many things I want to do with it. What I can say is that the next chapter will feature the Cotillion.**

**So, don't forget to drop a review. Say what/who you like and dislike, what you'd like to see and just general thoughts. I AM accepting characters for this but like… c'mon man, make 'em different. **

**See ya next time!**

**R.**


	4. Decadence and All Southern Perversions

**So, this is the longest chapter I've done so far (over 6k words). Enjo.**

_23__rd__ June, 1902_

_Caliga Hall, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Genevieve was in her bedroom on the top floor. Filled with gold candelabras, a maple four-post bed with brugundy curtains. She examined herself in the mirror – her pale oval face was framed by her mother's dark hair. Her dark blue eyes stood out with thick lashes against her china skin.

She wore a muted forest-green dress. She knew why she was dressed in green – she looked better in blue and Paradise insisted on being the most beautiful woman in the room.

Genevieve wasn't looking forward to this at all. It was Demi Barlow's debutante, which meant Valentina wouldn't let the Davenports be upstage. No doubt she was talking to Lucien Durand right now, subtly persuading him to propose in front of all the most important members of high society.

"Ready, sugar?" Roy asked with a smile as he entered her room. He gestured to the open door. "You should really start closing this."

"I will when I leave," Genevieve assured him.

Roy pulled at the cuffs of his evening jacket and smiled at Genevieve. "Ready to celebrate Miss Barlow's entry into society?"

"I suppose…" Genevieve sighed.

"Now, remember to smile." Roy delicately held his daughter's chin. "Like mama told you to." Genevieve plastered on a smile – her cheeks ached and it went against every instinct she had. She showed her teeth and gave a small laugh – it made her feel stupid. Like she was Paradise. "There we go."

Roy turned around to lead her out, but Genevieve stayed in her room. She looked out of the window to see five men and woman approach.

* * *

Ava hadn't seen a house this big anywhere apart from the Mayor's house in Saint Denis (he'd always had a penchant for red hair). She wore a vibrant burnt-orange dress with her best earrings. What she wore best, however, was the small two-shot derringer tucked into her garter. She looked quite the picture next to Luca: Whereas the others wore evening suits, Luca revelled. He wore a black top hat on his dark hair, slicked back with pomade. His shoes were high-shined and the platinum chain of his pocket watch glinted in the moonlight.

"Now, remember," Rune said lowly as he brushed a hand across his newly-shaved jaw, "we ain't here to cause trouble. Be respectful to the Davenports…" Rune turned to Aiden. "And their retainers."

"Oh, aye, I'll be _very_ feckin' respectful…" Matty chortled to himself.

"You damned well better. This will be a fine night of debauchery, decadence and all southern perversions, but _we_ shall behave as honoured guests."

Aiden rolled his eyes as Ava looked back to see Parker stifling his coughs with his white handkerchief. "Are you okay, _cherie_?"

"I'm fine." Parker waved a hand. "Just a cough."

Ava walked over to Parker and linked her arm in his, entering the party behind Rune, Luca, Matty and Aiden. Those four men always seemed different when they were together – happier. They'd all been in the gang when she joined, but she didn't really know how much they knew each other – quite long if they planned all the scores. It was common knowledge that they'd all known each other _before_ the gang as formed – Rune often talked about how precious he saw Aiden – the prize pony of the outfit. Matty probably would've been seen as the same if he wasn't so… cocksure.

"_Cherie_," Ava said to Parker, "I've heard men cough before. Should I be worried?"

"Not for me," Parker assured her, "I'll be able to diagnose myself."

* * *

Avery enjoyed the cotillion as much as the next man. Or, rather, as much as the next woman – the men never seemed to enjoy them. Lights had been strung between the main building and the farmhouses. The gardens were teeming with all the socialites of Saint Denis, including the Mayor's son, Dominique Mercier.

Shelby was dressed in black tails with a loud red vest. Dark hair slicked back as he consorted with his group of Saint Denis dandies.

"Ah, Avie!" Shelby grinned as he wrapped an arm around Avery's neck. "This lad here can shoot like no-one else!" He informed his entourage. "Can shoot the eye out of a flying eagle, isn't that right, Avie?"

"Just the one eye, yes." Avery nodded. Shelby laughed.

"Avie, this is Mr. Dominique Mercier of Saint Denis. Mr Mercier, my nephew, Avery."

"Ah, we've all heard about Roy Davenport's nephew," Dominique said as he clasped Avery's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Rhodes has its very own gunfighter."

"_Exceptional_ gunfighter," Avery corrected Dominique. The men around them laughed.

"Quite right," Shelby agreed.

"Well, perhaps I'll talk to father about making you his aide," Dominique suggested. "I've had enough of the milksop that skulks around…" The men laughed again.

"It'd be a pleasure, sir, but my family has some business around here." Avery held up a hand earnestly. "Perhaps in the future?"

"The _soon_ future, I hope. Forgive me, my glass has gone dry." Dominique laughed and slapped Avery on the shoulder before sloping off to find another glass.

"Avery Davenport, the mayor's aide," Shelby chuckled to himself as he walked towards Roy and Genevieve. "Wasn't too long ago that we arrived in Rhodes. It was full of all sorts of vicious-"

"I was there, Uncle Shelby," Avery insisted.

"You were a child."

"I was fourteen! How am I child then and not now?"

"Because you've killed people now," Shelby stated.

"And how many people have you killed, Uncle Shelby?"

"Oh, sweet little Avie," Shelby grinned, "there's more than one way to become a man…"

"Shelby," Roy said quietly, "I don't want you putting ideas in his head…"

"Oh, don't blush baby brother…" Shelby rolled his eyes before looking to Genevieve. "Oh, Genny- why are you blue- why is she in blue?" He asked Roy. "She looks better in green!"

"My daughter looks beautiful in any colour," Roy replied as he sipped his champagne. "Have you-" Roy caught himself and turned to Genevieve. "Sweetie, do you and Avery want to go and find Mr. Durand?"

"Not particularly."

Avery chuckled. "Come on, Genny, I'll talk to you about how Dominique Mercier wants me to be his father's aide…" Avery led Genevieve across the courtyard.

"Have you seen Ambrose?" Roy asked Shelby quietly. "I've not seen him tonight…"

"Is that why we're whispering?" Shelby smiled. "Calm yourself – he's most likely relieving himself in the outhouse or the woods… like a dog." Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why?"

"It seems our alliance with the Brotherhood has come undone."

"Good riddance," Shelby scoffed as he sipped his champagne, "rotten drunks, the lot of them…"

"So, I've taken matters into my own hands." Roy pointed with his glass to the five new guests. Two men around the same age as Roy and Shelby, followed by a younger man. A copper-skinned boy – barely a man followed them, his arm linked with a red-haired beauty.

"Is this New Austin?" Shelby asked. Roy frowned at him. "Hiring cowpokes to protect our cattle?"

"The Rune Brody gang," Roy explained. "On the run for murder, robbery, cattle-rustling and what have you…"

"My, my, what a funny little happenstance." Shelby sipped his champagne. "The half-breed looks quite pretty-"

"Keep your sick perversions in the dark where they belong," Roy replied curtly. "You're to give them a job providing security."

"Me? For what?"

"The Parlour House." Roy put his glass on a servant's dish and took his second drink for the night. "Make their acquaintance and offer them work."

Shelby gave a lazy salute and sauntered off.

* * *

Aiden had never seen something like this before. He'd never seen a plantation before – the closest was his old ranch back west, and even that was rudimentary. He didn't care about making it look pretty, he was always too busy with work with Rune. But Caliga Hall? That was civilization incarnate. All the fine evening suits and gowns, with everyone drinking delicate little flutes of champagne.

That wasn't him. The suit he wore was stuffy – he'd not be able to run or fight in it. Give him a bottle of whiskey and a night of bawdy songs around the campfire any night.

"Luca," Rune said quietly as the gang arrived at the cotillion, "go and poke around and find out what exactly these Davenports own around here. Take Ava with you…"

"_Cherie_?" Ava offered her arm to Luca, who bowed flamboyantly before linking his arm with her and walking forwards.

"I love that Luca…" Rune muttered to himself. "Matty, go and-"

"Oh, I can see me plans for the night…" Matty's almond eyes flickered over to the white-dressed debutantes that danced with their escorts. He sauntered forwards, taking two glasses from the servant's dish and finishing one before handing it back onto the dish.

Rune's blue eyes flickered to Aiden's hazel ones. Aiden let out an exasperated chuckle before patting Rune's shoulder. "I'll look after him."

"Can always count on you, can't I, brother?" Rune snickered. "Parker and I are going to mingle and see what connections we can make."

"You've spent too much time with Luca." Aiden pointed at Rune as he walked after Matty.

"Don't I know it, son. Don't I know it…"

* * *

Lucien Durand wasn't… cruel or callous like some of the fiancées other girls her age had in Rhodes. No, he was just… well, he wasn't someone she particularly cared for. Not to say she disliked him, he was just- well, he was an idiot.

He looked very handsome – sculpted features and a southern tan. Thick blonde hair combed to the side with a well-groomed moustache sitting upon his lip, the ends waxed and curled. He wore an evening suit, tailored for him in Saint Denis.

"It's a wonderful affair," Lucien informed Genevieve in his posh southern accent. "Did you help organize this?"

"Mother and Paradise did," Genevieve responded. She wanted to be polite, but the less she spoke to Lucien, the better.

"Well, I suppose you'll want to organize our wedding." Lucien cleared his throat. "As long as it makes you happy…"

Genevieve looked at Lucien. She didn't want to plan a party – she didn't want to wear a dress and whelp him some children and be resigned to the role of mother and wife. But she was representing the Davenports, always, thus she could only say the following. "Thank you, Mr. Durand."

"Well, aren't yous a bunch o' visions?" A ginger man, hair a little too long for a gentlemen, held his arms out wide as he chuckled at Genevieve and the women that surrounded her. "Ladies, me name is Matty Donnelly, and I am about to change all your lives for the better!"

"Excuse me, Mr. Donnelly," Lucien said with a scoff, "I'd like to see your invitation."

"Yous saying I've snuck in?" Matty took a step towards Lucien. "Really, boyo?"

"I…" Lucien stammered, taking a step back.

A man (perhaps a little younger) than Matty appeared, grabbing the Irishman's arm and pulling him back. This man looked familiar to Genevieve. He didn't wear his suit well, and his hair was still tousled and wild despite the obvious attempt to pomade it. "'Scuse me, folk- ladies…" He pulled Matty back and exchanged hushed words.

"But I didn't-" Matty said loudly.

"Hey…" the other man pointed a finger at Matty. "You're doing it again!"

"Oh, give over y'old bastard-"

The man grabbed Matty's shoulder and spoke into his ear quietly. Matty eventually groaned, taking the man's glass of champagne and walking across the garden. The man turned around, sweeping a hand through his hair and facing everyone again. "Apologies."

"Seems someone let in a bunch of country bumpkins," Lucien chuckled to himself. Genevieve noticed the man's jaw clench.

"That someone would be Roy Davenport," the man responded. "'Course, if you ain't happy with the company he keeps…"

"Do I know you?" Genevieve asked suddenly, examining the man's hazel eyes. He looked to her, frowning.

"I don't think so, ma'am."

"I do…" Genevieve nodded as the memory came back to her. "Montague Roberts – the outlaw that was hanged. You were there with someone…"

The man paused and nodded. "Not the best introduction to this place, if I'm honest."

"Where is it that you live that outlaws are not hanged?" Lucien scoffed.

"New Austin," the man responded. "Believe me, outlaws are hanged there. Only thing is that we don't kill folk for lying with another man."

"Well, that's because you all lay with your horses and cattle, don't you?" Lucien chuckled (as did most of the women). The man narrowed his hazel eyes at Lucien. "We've not been introduced- Lucien Durand." Lucien offered his hand. "My father runs the local bank."

"Aiden." The man offered a hand.

"Aiden…?"

"Just Aiden."

"What do you do, Mr. Aiden?" Lucien drank his champagne, waiting for Aiden to say he was a hand at a ranch or a cattle driver.

"I do a lot of stuff."

"Stuff with horses and cattle, I'm sure?" Lucien cast a smirk to Genevieve and the other giggling girls.

"Sure. Done stuff with banks too but…" Aiden took a breath and shrugged. "Mostly I just shoot folk."

Lucien began to cough, removing the flute from his lips as he thumped his chest, wheezing. Genevieve hadn't seen him this flushed and embarrassed before – it was something that made her smile. "Mr. Durand, why don't you go and find some water?" Genevieve suggested as she walked over to Aiden. "Mr. Aiden can take care of me until you get back."

Lucien frowned at Genevieve and squinted at Aiden before sloping away. Aiden let out a slight scoff as he watched Lucien leave. "Friend of yours?"

"My fiancée," Genevieve informed him before offering a hand. "Genevieve Davenport."

"Davenport?" Aiden's hazel eyes widened. "As in Roy Davenport?"

"My father." Genevieve nodded. "So, what's your business in Rhodes, Mr. Aiden?"

"Just passing through. Though it seems your father has some business for us…"

And there was that pit in Genevieve's stomach again. Yet another man in Rhodes that worked for her father and his 'business'. She knew this Aiden wouldn't tell her what that business was – surely a woman was too delicate to know the specifics. "Seems my father's men are multiplying…"

"I ain't your pa's man," Aiden replied quickly. "I ain't no-one's man."

"What about your father?" Genevieve asked. Aiden frowned. "The man you were with the other day?"

Aiden gave a small smile – his teeth were ever so slightly crooked – a gap beside his front teeth, just small enough to hold a thin cigarette. It wasn't like Lucien's smile – perfect white teeth, all next to each other in predictable fashion. "Rune ain't my pa," Aiden laughed. "Well, I mean, he is, but… well, mostly he's just a fool."

Genevieve smiled. "So, he's not your father, but he is."

"Rune found me a long time ago," Aiden began to explain. "Saved me when I didn't have nobody else."

This was… unusual. First the man carried a gun, openly admitted to killing people and now had some strange mysterious past. It made Genevieve smile – it was so different to Rhodes. "You're something of an enigma, Mr. Aiden."

"Oh, I'm a lot of things, Genevieve, but I ain't hardly a mystery."

Genevieve blinked. "It's not polite to call me by my last name."

Aiden scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. "I'm not… I don't really go to these-"

"Darling Genny!" Shelby's posh voice drawled as he approached with a dish of champagne flutes and a blonde beauty beside him. "Where's charming Mr. Durand?"

"Finding some water," Genevieve responded. "Have you met Mr. Aiden?"

"Mr. Aiden who?" Shelby frowned at Aiden and then extended a hand. "Shelby Davenport."

"Davenport?" Aiden shook his hand. "How many of you are there?"

"A fair few," Shelby confessed with a dazzling smile. "I've not seen you around before- wait…" Shelby smiled and pointed a finger at Aiden. "Whiskey man? Always buy a bottle and wear that amazingly… rustic hat?" Aiden frowned in response. "I own the Parlour house."

"Oh." Aiden nodded. "You need better whiskey…"

Shelby let out a loud, sharp cackle. "_Yes_! Oh, I like you, Aiden…" He pointed a finger at him. "You're a real rough cowboy, aren't you?"

"If the price is right."

Shelby guffawed again. "What do you do?"

"Roy has some work for him," Genevieve explained.

"Work? What sort of work?"

"I don't know yet." Aiden shrugged.

"Well… well, tell you what, muffin, I'm in need of a rough and ready sort like yourself- I have some awfully rotten drunks that come along and disturb the peace… maybe you're of a mind to keep them out?"

Genevieve waited to see how Aiden would respond – it was a very particular person that agreed to associate with her uncle Shelby. But she didn't expect him to say what he said next. "Did you just call me muffin?"

Shelby grinned. "Come along to the Parlour House tomorrow around noon. Bring in someone rough and ready like the rest of y'all, Mr…?" Aiden licked his lips and looked across to Rune and Parker, unsure of what he should say. "If you're to work with the Davenports, we should know your name."

Aiden flicked his tongue across his teeth and shook Shelby's hand. "Aiden McKneil."

Genevieve knew the name, didn't she? McKneil was common, she supposed but there was _something_ at the back of her mind – something she couldn't remember…

"Oh, my manners, goodness!" Shelby chuckled as he presented the woman the stood beside him. A slender girl that stood the slightest bit shorter than Genevieve. Her long, dark blonde hair fell in a simple yet pretty way, and her dress looked… old. Not the latest fashion, but definitely of good quality. Her pale blue eyes were old and hard like Aiden's, but whereas Aiden's had a sort of warmth to them, hers were cold. Colder than anything that had ever existed.

"Ma'am, this is Aiden McKneil and my niece, Genevieve. Genny, Mr. McKneil, this goddess here is… how do you pronounce it again?"

"Anastasia Korzhakov."

* * *

Paradise had never seen someone as beauty as Madame Moiselle Delacroix. Her beautiful red hair, buxom bust- _how_ did she get _that_? Paradise looked down at herself – well, she wasn't a French whore, so it didn't matter. Paradise was Princess of Rhodes in all but name. But she didn't understand why Aveline Delacroix was _smiling_.

"Your wife, Mr. D'Angelo?" Roy asked Luca.

"No," Luca chuckled, "no, I have a woman but she's… elsewhere."

"Oh, you should've brought her."

"She's a…" Luca cleared his throat. "She's not American. Mexican."

"Ah, a greasy wife…" Roy chuckled with the other men. "Well, you saw fit to bring a half-breed into my garden." Roy glanced across to the young copper-skinned man with Rune.

"He's a doctor from England," Luca explained, his mind reeling as he tried to find a suitable excuse. "You've no medical man in Rhodes, so I thought you may want to make his acquaintance."

"A doctor?" Roy frowned. "How could he treat anyone? Hands like that, he'd get mud on every wound." The men around him laughed again.

Was that how Luca really used to talk? Did he really use to laugh at those jokes? Now they just seemed… well, not bad, but strange. They didn't make him laugh. He was just… he didn't find them funny anymore.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Luca cleared his throat. He walked away with Ava, leaving Paradise to pout as she watched the French whore walk away.

"Papa," Paradise said to Roy, "you can't bring someone like _that _in again. It's not fair to me!"

"Of course, Pari…" Roy shushed his daughter as he turned to look to Thomas Cooper. "Find the Irish one. I can't see him anywhere…"

* * *

Anna had no interest in talking to the man and woman in front of her. They seemed nice and respectable, but she had no interest in that. She scanned the crowd, looking for Isaiah Maxwell – he'd be here, surely.

What did catch her attention, however, was a man in a fine suit. He'd shaved his beard and slicked his hair back with pomade, but it was definitely him. She was sure of that – the friendliest man she'd come across since leaving the Wapiti tribe.

Anna made her excuses and walked across the garden to stood next to the man, waiting for him to take notice of her. Eventually, his blue-grey eyes fell on her and he gave the broadest smile – it was a rare smile Anna had only seen from her father. The sort of smile that was full of hope and pure, untouched happiness. It was love.

"Miss Anna." Rune opened his arms to hug her, only to realize where they were. He took her hand and kissed it chastely. "I'm relieved to see that you're still alive."

"Just about…" Anna smiled. "I'm happy to see the same is of you."

"What brings you to Rhodes?"

"The same thing that brought me to Cumberland Forest."

Rune nodded. "They're around here too, are they?"

"Working with our esteemed host…" Anna's eyes fell on Roy and Valentina, who conversed with the Sheriff of Rhodes.

"He mentioned a gang – one that aren't in his good graces anymore."

Anna smiled. "That'll make things easier…" Parker cleared his throat and Rune rubbed his forehead.

"I'm- Miss Anna, please meet a member of my… family. This is Parker Lee-Fremont."

"Mister." Anna clasped Parker's hand. Parker turned her arm over and began to look at her wrist. He closed her fingers into a fist and looked up to see her wince.

"How long has it been like this?" He asked in an accent she hadn't heard before.

Anna's eyebrows furrowed. "I… don't…"

"You didn't fully extend your arm when striking someone…" Parker murmured as he pressed a thumb against her wrist. She flinched and retracted her hand. "You've a fracture of the bone."

Anna looked to Rune. "We all have our uses…" Rune smiled at her.

"I see…" Anna turned back to Parker. "Thank you, mister."

"I'll set it for you tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't…"

"Parker wasn't asking," Rune said with a smile to Anna. "There's no rush for it – let yourself rest."

Anna's eyes flickered over to the large bangs and whizzes. Everyone let out laughs and claps as the fireworks exploded in the sky. The quartet halted their play for everyone to examine the bright bursts of yellow and purple and orange and red that cracked across the black sky.

Parker had seen fireworks before, back home. Only once – he knew he'd seen them, but he couldn't remember. He watched those bright colours fill the sky and illuminate the guests at the cotillion. But he and Rune couldn't clap. They just watched the embers fall across the sky.

Rune felt his hand lightly graze against Parker's. It was like fireworks were crackling along Rune's arm – he wanted to flinch his arm away from Parker's but… it was nice. He didn't dare move his arm away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Parker look down at his hand for a moment before looking back up. He didn't move his hand away.

Rune smiled.

A moment later, Parker's hand moved away and the young man pulled out his handkerchief, coughing into it. Rune frowned and slapped Parker on the back, his other hand on his shoulder.

"Parker?"

"I'm fine…" Parker's voice was muffled as he stifled another cough. He straightened up, wheezing. "I'm fine."

* * *

Matty hadn't been drunk in too long. It was the bubbles, he was sure of it. He'd loosened his tie and sat at a table talking to a Southern Belle. She had chocolate brown ringlets framing her tanned skin, her eyes all blue and twinkling. She wore a white dress, meaning she was a debutante. Twenty-one years old and enchanted by Matty's story of bravery.

"So, me brother Aiden goes back in to get his watch, which was lifted by this lass, Ellie. So, your man goes in and sees this one fecker, Billy, holding him from behind and this other bastard, Jessop, walloping him from the front. I go in, calm as you like, and take this bastard, Jessop off o' him. Save the day, even if I did mess up the saloon a tad…"

"Miss Barlow," a gravelly English accent was heard, "your escort is looking for you."

"Oh, Mr. Cooper," Demi Barlow stood up, "you've met Mat- Mr. Donnelly, haven't you?"

"I've had the pleasure," Thomas said curtly as he examined the cocky Irishman.

"Ey, no you haven't. But, if you ask nicely like Demi here," Matty brushed a hand across Demi's face as it began to glow red.

"Miss Barlow." Thomas glared at Demi until she left to find her guest. Thomas turned back to Matty, examining his messy red hair. "If you wish to stay, you'll behave in a manner more in keeping with the citizens of Rhodes."

Matty frowned. "The fuck are yous on about?"

Thomas took a step towards Matty. "Where are you from?"

"Dublin, originally."

Thomas nodded, rubbing a hand across his dark beard, looking at Matty with his one good eye. "You Paddy's don't know anything about civility, do you?" Thomas growled. "See, that's why we had to move in our men to keep control of you."

Matty's smile began to dissipate. "Yous have no idea what you're talking about, old man-"

"Maybe we'll have to teach your manners here as well." Thomas cocked his head to the side. "Since your father so clearly failed to do so."

"Me da' was a bastard," Matty scoffed. "Yous ain't going to rile me with talk of him." Matty crossed his arms, a smug smile on his lips.

"What if I talked about your mother? Or sister or brother?" Matty's smile faltered at the mention of a brother. It'd only been four years and… "Ah, a brother then?" Thomas said lowly. "One less Jay in the world, ruining the air."

That was when Matty punched Thomas.

* * *

Rune pulled his hand back from Parker's as he turned around. Luca looked up from the debutantes he was charming with Ava. Aiden turned around from his conversation with Genevieve.

Matty was being pulled away from Thomas with a bleeding lip. Thomas' bad eye had begun to swell badly as the retainers grabbed Matty's arms and hauled him back. Matty was thrashing madly, like a fish out of water as Thomas examined his bloodied knuckle.

"Matty, Matty!" Aiden shoved the other men off Matty and grabbed his friend, keeping him back. "Get a hold of yourself!" Ava quickly came to Matty's side, grabbing the sides of his face and muttering softly to him.

"Mr. Davenport," Luca swept back his dark hair, "sir, please forgive my associate, he is… hot-tempered."

Roy looked from Thomas to Luca before pointing at Matty. "You best keep that dog on a leash, Mr. D'Angelo!"

"Matty!" Rune barked as he walked across to the Irishman. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"That bastard cunt was-" Matty stopped talking as Rune struck him hard across the face, glaring at him. He let out a small breath as he glanced from Parker's confused face to Matty's red cheek. There were small gasps as all the civilized folk watched Matty fall silent. It wasn't respectable to hit your family – not in public, anyway.

"Well, well, Mr. Brody…" Roy murmured as he walked forwards, "at least you aren't as savage as your company…" Roy looked at Parker with disdain before looking towards the crowd. "I think it best if you leave now."

Aiden pulled Matty's arm behind his back and walked him out with Rune, Parker, Luca and Ava. Shelby sauntered up to Roy, smoking a cigarette. "What did I miss?"

* * *

Elvira still didn't feel like it was her gang. Her camp. She sat on a log a little further away from Alice MacKenzie, Alanza Huerte, Paloma Valez and Young Charlotte. They were all different in how they talked to each other. Young Charlotte moved from Lana's lap to Paloma's as she grew tired, sitting on Paloma's lap and letting her eyelids close.

Alice used the tip of her steel hunting knife to clean her nails as Paloma and Lana conversed in Spanish – with Charlotte trying to catch the odd word.

"'Tween you and me, Lana," Alice said as she picked at her nails, "who's better, Luca or Aiden?"

Lana's face turned cold as she cocked her head to the side. "Really?"

"I'll tell you who's better out of Matty and Ava."

Paloma covered Charlotte's ears, muttering in Spanish.

"I don't want to know…"

"It was Ava. Obviously."

"_Dios mio…_" Paloma muttered to herself as she picked up Charlotte and carried her to the tent.

"Tough old lass, ain't she?" Alice grinned to herself before looking back to Lana. "Ain't you bothered at all about not going to the party?"

"Cotillion," Lana corrected her, "and no, I'm not."

"So you don't care about Luca swanning about with Ava?"

Lana let out a strained breath. "No. Luca's… fine."

Alice rolled her eyes and uncorked a bottle of shine as she got to her feet, taking a swig before setting eyes on Elvira, swilling the liquor around in her mouth. "What about you, Colt? You don't mind none?"  
Elvira shrugged. "Not really…"

"You don't care about the men having all the fun?"

"It ain't like that-"

"Course it is," Alice scoffed. "When's the last time we went out on a job? Just the women?" Lana was silent – she knew when the last time was. About two months ago or so. Ellie on the other hand… well, Alice knew why she was silent. "You've never gone on a raid, have you?" Ellie shrugged. "Don't shrug at me, girl." Ellie shrugged again and Alice got to her feet. "You've been here all of two seconds, girl. There's a pecking order."

"I know," Ellie responded, "you're pretty low on it."

Alice took another swig of the bottle and roved her dark eyes over Ellie's leather stitched trousers before falling on the browned steel of her cattleman revolver. "You ever shot it?"

"Course I shot it-"

"At someone, I mean. Y'know," Alice walked forwards twirling her gun out of her holster, "killed someone?"

"Leave her alone, Alice," Near's tired and ragged voice was heard from outside his tent. Alice looked at the old man who rested a scratched carbine repeater across his lap.

"Why? We're criminals."

"We're outlaws-"

"Says Rune, a criminal too proud to call himself one!" Alice snapped as she careened towards Near. "You ain't either though. A little too old, a little too slow…"

Near rubbed his eye and cast a lazy gaze over to Alice. "Oh, I'm still quick enough to put you down… if I'm so inclined, I mean."

"Are you?" Near looked her up and down and shook his head. "Thought not. See, Ellie, Near talks a good game, but his days are _long _behind him-"

A gunshot cracked across the camp as the bottle in Alice's hand exploded. Alice let out a sharp gasp as her hand started bleeding from the glass. She looked up at Near, who still looked calm and easy as he held a nickel double-action revolver in his left hand. Smoke still trailed out from the barrel.

"Just imagine how fast I was _back_ in my day." Near gave a warm smile to Alice, who cussed under her breath before spitting at Near.

"Trust a crow to ruin good shine…" Alice muttered as she made her way back to her tent, no doubt to tend to her wound.

Near waited until Alice was gone to holster his revolver and glance across to a gobsmacked Ellie and giving her a wink. Ellie couldn't help but smile – she'd heard of shootists – after all, she knew that Alice, Matty, Aiden and Lana were good shots, but she'd never seen it. And Near – seeing him with that revolver…

"That ought to keep her quiet for a bit…" Near murmured to Ellie, who made her way across the camp to him, trying to figure out the right words to use. "Just say it dear, I've not much time left…"

Ellie licked her lips. "I want you to teach me."

"How to shoot a bottle?"

"Or a person."

Near scoffed. "You ain't no killer, Miss Colt. Let's keep it that way…"

"Kill or be killed."

Near chuckled. "You go about firing a gun, you surely _will_ be killed – seen it happen to lots of young folk."

"Didn't happen to you. Or to Alice or Aiden-"

"Alice is a damn fool. And Aiden, well…" Near rubbed his shorn jaw with a fond smile. Aiden has a certain wit about him and, despite his claims, he wasn't an idiot. The boy had a brain in his head, though he didn't use it often. But Near liked to think that he had some influence on calming the boy's temper in the past few years. Perhaps it was because he knew the boy better than most – he'd lost people too. He'd lost family – he'd lost everything. Rune was familiar with that too, and he'd done the best thing possible for the boy – he'd given him a purpose. A family.

Now, Near liked Luca and Matty, despite their love of liquor. But Luca cared about living the fine life, and Matty only cared about fun. Lana had a lot of anger and, in the past couple of years in which he'd taught her to wield a gun properly, he'd learnt that she only cared about proving herself. To who, however, Near didn't know. No, the truth was that Near favoured Aiden, ever so slightly, because he didn't care about fun or money or proving himself. He cared about the gang. Just like Near did.

"Aiden's Aiden," Near said finally.

"That's not an excuse."

"Why not?"

Ellie flicked her tongue across her teeth. "Either you teach me or Alice does."

Alice teaching Elvira Colt? Near almost shuddered at the thought – it was bad enough that she had sunken her hooks into Lana. But Ellie as well? Alice was dangerous and wild.

Near looked up at Ellie. "You're a sly one, aren't you, sneak thief?"  
"If by sly, you mean clever, sure."

Near chuckled – the only woman he'd only heard talk like that before was Henri. "You're like gold in a river…" Near murmured before standing up with a groan and limping towards Ellie, squinting at her. She was slight and wasn't dressed practically. Her holster was hung too high to draw properly, and she would need to tie her hair back… "I suppose we could go hunting at dawn. See what you're like…" Near walked back into his tent and left Elli smiling to herself.

She was going to be a shootist.

**Hope everyone enjoyed and you can see why it took so long to upload. I'll start work on the next chapter now, so it should be up after the weekend (with any luck). Keep on reviewing and sending in characters and if you've not read the first two instalments (Way of the West & Call of the West), please do… or don't, I'm not the boss of you.**

**I've also decided that this series is just going to be referred to as the West series so… enjoy that.**

**R. **


	5. Killers & Thieves

**So, this is just a quick update. As for songs I'd give to characters (a lil tradition made her by the readers), I'd say that ****_Take You Down_**** by Daniel Pemberton best suits Alice MacKenzie. It's just so wild and western - just like her.**

_24__th__ June, 1902_

_Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Deep within the depths of a mountainous forest, a pack of wolves gently walked. At the front was a large grey wolf, all greying and quiet as it let out a deep, rumbling breath. In this large pack of wolves, there was an old, lame black wolf that treaded beside the father, keeping an eye on the younger grey wolves that romped and played. And at the back was the largest of the wolves, barking at the younger wolves and making them join the front. He was the protector.

The wolves made their way across the forest, coming to a halt as they looked over the ravine to see a strange animal. Billowing black smoke with no legs, giving a deadly roar and whistle as it ran faster than any of the wolves along a strange iron trail.

It was the enemy, all the wolves knew this, but the large grey wolf feared it the most. Something that big and fearsome – how could the hope to stand against it? Well, the father of the pack knew – they'd stand against it together. As long as they were all loyal and kept in the pack, nothing could destroy them.

Rune rubbed his eyes as he sat up in his cot. He rubbed his tired blue eyes and looked up to see everyone going about their business: Night's Hawk carried bales of hay to the horses, Near and Ellie clutched black-tailed hare in one hand and rifles in the other, Paloma was plucking the feathers off chickens and Father Elijah was teaching Young Charlotte to read.

Rune knew that Charlotte wasn't his blood daughter, but he'd found her. Just as he'd taken in Aiden, he felt that she was his responsibility. Maybe it was thinking about Matilda and her gap-toothed smile, that wobbly dance she used to do when she wanted to play with their dog… it all seemed so strange and long-ago. Like some half-forgotten dream. Even after she had passed, Rune didn't stop being a father.

"Careful, folks, Rune's thinking again," came the gravelly New Austin accent of Aiden. Rune glanced up to see his protégé walking up to him, dressed in a new white shirt and a green vest.

"Well, someone has to, Aiden," Rune chuckled as he took the tin cup of coffee from Aiden. "After all, at least some of us have a brain!" He stood up and poked Aiden's head, getting a chuckle from the man. Rune couldn't help but smile at Aiden's grin. "Seems like forever since I've seen you smile."

"Probably 'cos we ain't got much to smile about…" Aiden replied as he sat down on the chair opposite Rune, looking at his foot as it scraped across the wooden floorboards in the tent.

"Apart from that pretty new shirt of yours?" Aiden shrugged – he clearly was a taciturn young man, but Rune knew how to get him to talk. "C'mon, son."

The corner of Aiden's lip twitched into a smile and he looked up, glancing around the camp. "I know you don't want to hear it, Rune, but…"

"Aiden, son, I will _always_ hear what you have to say."

Aiden nodded, biting his lip. "Rune, it's been nearly five years since Herridge and… and I guess I just thought the plan was to head out of America."

"And go where?"

"Mexico. Canada – anywhere that the law won't find us."

"Roy Davenport owns the law here. We're safe – ain't no-one going to find us here."

"And what if they do?"

Rune stared into Aiden's hazel eyes. Streaks of gold emanating from his pupils and striking against the green in his iris. "What do you see out there, Aiden?" Rune gestured to the gang.

Aiden shrugged. "A bunch of folk that just… don't fit nowhere else."

"The last of a dying kind." Rune nodded. He'd taught Aiden well.

"Killers and thieves-"

"No, no, we are not _criminals_, Aiden!" Rune pointed at him. "We are _outlaws_. We do not rob solely for ourselves-"

"I've heard this all before, Rune…"

"No, you've listened, but you haven't heard me." Rune picked up his pipe and filled it with tobacco. "What I see out there are _wolves_."

Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Wolves?" He let out a chuckle. "Something wrong with your sight?"

"Wolves hunt together. They fight together and if necessary, they'll die together too. But the strongest… the strongest stays at the back. Protects them and leaves the planning to the leader." Rune pointed a finger at Aiden. "You're that for us, Aiden. _I_ can lead us, but I need _you_ to protect us."

"Well, we all protect-"

"No, not _all_." Rune shook his head. "Luca's been with us a long time, but not long enough. Near is old, Alice is wild, Matty's a fool- _you_, Aiden. _You_ are my son." He put a hand on Aiden's shoulder. "So long as I've got you with me, so long as you can _trust_ me, ain't nothing bad going to happen to us."

Aiden nodded. "I trust you, Rune."

Rune smiled, patting Aiden's shoulder. "Y'know, Aiden… well, you know I was a father long before I met you but…" Rune took a heavy sigh and got to his feet, looking around the gang – their family. "I don't think I've ever been as proud to be one as I am right now."

Aiden gave the smile that Matilda used to give. He was bashful. A tough exterior, but Aiden was soft underneath. It really did just utterly warm Rune's heart to know that at the core of the gang and the bloodshed, he still had a family. A _real_ family.

"I've got a job," Aiden said, clearing his throat. Rune nodded – Aiden wasn't one for talking about his feelings. Rune turned across camp to see Alice lying down on the grass, a cigarette in her mouth that she removed with a bandaged hand.

"Miss MacKenzie," Rune called, "go with Aiden, here, see that nothing untoward happens."

"Really?" Aiden groaned.

"Sure thing, daddy." Alice got to her feet and tossed the cigarette.

"Have fun, you two…" Rune said as he walked away to get himself some breakfast.

"Rune!" Aiden moaned as he watched the man jauntily walk away. He cussed to himself as he turned to face Alice.

"So, what's the job, moody bones?"

* * *

Anna didn't feel at ease in Scarlett Meadows. It was surely pretty, with green lush fields and a clear sky – and the heat was liberating. She didn't wear her usual coat, just a red collared shirt.

As she came over the field, she saw the camp. It looked… well, it looked like an oasis in a desert. It was teeming with folk all doing their fair share. Carrying hay, skinning game, cooking, feeding the horses, filling up the wash basin with fresh water – it was a small, rudimentary community. It reminded Anna of her childhood.

She shook off the thoughts as the folk took notice of her. An elderly black man cocked his head to the side as he examined her dismounting her horse. Her pale blue eyes moved across the camp, trying to find Rune or Matty…

"Miss Anna!" Came Rune's gravelly voice as he walked towards her, beaming widely. "You've decided to get your hand fixed after all?"

Anna gave a polite laugh as she looked around – upon Rune's greeting, everyone seemed to relax. It was clear to her – so blatantly clear that this was _his_ gang. Rune stopped a young man and a red-haired woman for a moment, gesturing to Anna. "Aiden, Alice, this is Miss Anna."

Aiden frowned. "You were at the cotillion."

Anna smiled as she recognized him. "I didn't know you know Rune."

"Sure he does- we all know daddy here."

"Jesus, woman…" Aiden muttered.

"Da- daddy?" Anna frowned at Rune.

"Aiden, go take MacKenzie into town now. Don't want to be late for this job of yours."

Aiden and Alice made their way to their horses and Rune led Anna to the campfire, where the young caramel-skinned man from the cotillion sat. He stifled a cough and wiped a hand across his sweated forehead before looking up at Anna with his tired eyes – a pale mix of blue and green and grey. "Anna," the man stood up and shook her good hand.

"Miss Anna, you remember Parker?"

"Parker, yes." Anna nodded. Parker sat her down on the chair opposite him and began to roll up her sleeve to examine her hand once again. "Thank you once again for-" She was cut off by Parker, who loudly shushed her, delicately turning over her hand with narrowed eyes as his fingers pressed against her wrist. She let out a slight pained gasp and Parker dipped a hand into his satchel, finding a roll of gauze.

"Rune, I need sticks," Parker said finally. "Strong ones – short enough to fit on her wrist."

Rune looked from Parker to Anna with a slight smile. "Right away, Doc." Rune got to his feet and began to walk towards the lumps of firewood and kindling.

"Doc?" Anna asked.

"A nickname," Parker mumbled as his eyes travelled across the scars that wound around her arm. Anna nodded, looking around at the folk in camp. Amongst which was a young girl, blonde and pretty. She couldn't have been older than eight, clutching Rune's leg as he shifted through the kindling.

"His daughter?" Anna asked Parker, who frowned.

"Almost," he replied eventually. "She's an orphan."

Anna glanced back to the girl – she thought it was awful to be orphaned at the age of fifteen was bad… "Orphaned at eight…"

"Four," Parker said bluntly as he reached into his bag again to pull out a pair of small scissors. "Rune says you're hunting people."

"Not people. _Monsters_."

"There's no such thing."

"You wouldn't know."

Parker looked up at her with his weary eyes and wiped sweat from his neck as he stifled a cough. "What would you call me?" Anna frowned. "Me- what would you call me?"

"…Parker- Doc. Doctor."

"Than you a rare one," Parker scoffed. "I've been called a half-breed, halfie, Jim Crow, darkie- all sorts of things." Parker stifled another cough. "You might've had it hard, but most folk 'round here have as well."

"You don't know what happened to me," Anna said sharply. "What they did to me!"

Parker released her hand and crossed his arms. "Tell me, then." Anna licked her lips and looked away. It wasn't something she wanted to remember… "Beat you? Defiled you? Killed your family, took your land?" Parker raised an eyebrow before pointing to the old Mexican woman that chopped meat. "That's Abuela. Her children and her grandchildren were all murdered for harbouring outlaws. That's Matty." Parker pointed at the ginger man who'd been at the cotillion the night before. "His father beat him and his brother was killed four years ago." Parker then nodded to Night's Hawk. "He doesn't have a home – there's nowhere but here that folk won't look at him twice or accuse his grandfather of killing theirs."

"And you?" Anna asked. "What about you?"

Parker swallowed hard for a moment. "My mother was ill. She died."

"And that's why you joined?"

Parker coughed some more, taking out a handkerchief to cover his lips. But as he pulled it away, Anna noticed the traces of blood on his lips. "I just want to help people who need it."

"And you… you don't?"

"Oh, I'll be fine." Parker waved a hand. In truth, it didn't matter if he would be fine. Parker was a doctor and Anna was his patient – he couldn't be concerned about himself. How could anyone do anything if they were thinking about themselves?

"Doc!" Young Charlotte's chirpy voice called as the girl ran towards him holding a tiny fistful of sticks. "Pa says you need sticks."

Parker glanced up to Rune, who was smiling at Charlotte. He looked back down and took three of the sturdiest sticks. "Looks like I've an assistant now," he commented as he placed the sticks on Anna's hand and began to wrap gauze around it. Charlotte clasped her hands and waited patiently. Anna didn't know what for, but she felt uneasy…

"Doc…" Charlotte said quietly.

Parker glanced down to her with a slight smile before dipping his hand into his satchel for a third time and producing a hard-boiled caramel for her. She took quickly and placed it in her mouth, giggling.

"Charlotte," Rune said softly, putting an arm around the young girl's shoulders, "why don't you go and see if Abuela needs some help?"

Charlotte nodded and skipped off – Anna could barely remember being that age. It wasn't something she liked to dwell on, but it gave her fire. It gave her steel. It gave her purpose – she was going to make all the bastards pay. Everyone who breathed the air that day. Even the one young man who didn't touch her.

"The Brotherhood are a gang, Anna." Rune sat down on the leg next to her. "You need one to match them."

"I've been doing fine on my own."

"Real fine…" Rune gestured to Parker's medical help. "More than that, you need a family, Anna. Folk you can trust."

"I've got this far by _not_ trusting-"

"So you don't trust me?" Rune raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know you."

"Well…" Rune rubbed his sweated jaw, "stay with us 'til your hand is healed."

"Two weeks," Parker interjected.

"Two weeks." Rune's grey eyes fell on Anna's pale blue. "When you're ready, we'll go fight the Brotherhood – together."

Anna bit her full lip. She knew she'd never needed help. The Wapiti had taught her all she needed to know to survive – that being silent and swift would always prevail over guns. But seeing Charlotte – she hadn't seen a child smile in a long time. "I'll think about it."

The corner of Rune's mouth twitched into a smile. "That's all I ask."

* * *

The most fun that Alice MacKenzie had had lately was in raising the ire of Aiden McKneil. The man was surly and bitter – and incredibly easy to annoy. He would never do anything though – she got the impression that Aiden wouldn't do anything that could upset Rune.

Inside the Rhodes Parlour House the outlaws found no patrons. Instead, a man tuned and tinkered with the piano in the corner. A bartender stood behind the bar, sorting away glasses. And at one table, a man sat. His clothes were… loud – a bright red paisley vest under a black overcoat with gold lining. A puffed emerald cravat pinned with a sapphire. His black hair slicked back with all the precision and class of a baron.

By his side sat two people – one of them was a young man, a good decade or so younger than Aiden and Alice. His blond hair was tousled and he looked to be quite scrawny. Next to him sat a respectable young lady – an oval face of pale skin. Those two dimples in her cheeks as she smiled to greet moody McKneil. Thick, dark hair – she was pretty, but not beautiful. A dime a dozen in Alice's eyes.

"Ah," the eldest man said as he got to his feet, "Mr… McKneil, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir." Aiden nodded as he removed his hat. Shelby stretched out a hand while Aiden pointed with his hat to Alice. "Miss MacKenzie, Mr. Davenport. Miss Davenport, and…" Aiden paused as he looked at the young man, shrugging his shoulders.

"This is my nephew, Avie," Shelby explained, waving a casual hand as his dark brown eyes over Alice's figure. "My God- Look, Genny, it's a _woman_!" Shelby said, eyes widened in fascination and excitement.

"God above…" Genevieve murmured. Alice could hear Aiden chuckle slightly under his breath – she hadn't heard him laugh while sober…

"With a revolver, too!" Shelby chortled, shaking his head. "Two of them!"

"Wait 'til you see what I can do with them," Alice responded.

Avery raised an eyebrow, interested. Shelby, however, cackled. "Brilliant! Oh, my manners- libations, libations!" Shelby clicked his fingers at the bartender. "You're a whiskey man, I hope, Mr. McKneil?"

"Sure." Aiden pulled out a chair and sat down opposite the three Davenports.

"Of course- a mick like yourself… Y'know, I know a mick once…"

"That so?"

"Awful drunk – don't know what I expected, to be honest… perhaps a small glass of port for Miss MacKenzie?"

Aiden opened his mouth, but Alice cut him off. "Miss MacKenzie will have a whiskey too."

Shelby cackled again. "Of course you will… fabulous!"

Alice's eyes drifted across Avery's revolver. "Expecting trouble?"

"Always," Avery responded.

"Ain't you a lil' young to be killing?"

"Ain't ladies supposed to wear dresses?" Avery retorted pointedly.

"This one don't."

"You ain't no _lady_." Aiden frowned at Alice.

"So, what do you make of my little establishment here, Mr. McKneil?" Shelby asked.

"It's very… respectable." Aiden nodded. Only Alice understood this joke – being respectable wasn't something to be proud of, it just meant you lived your life according to the whims of others.

"I trust you've heard of that little band of thugs, the Brotherhood?" Aiden shrugged. "Well, they're a band of thugs. They _used_ to provide me with security, but they have a habit of being gosh-darn awful drunks… the shits." Shelby paused as the bartender arrived, placing the drinks on the tables. Alice's eyes flickered up to the bartender, examining his black eye. "It's bad for business, don't you know?"

"Sure." Aiden nodded.

"Therefore, I'd appreciate it if you… made sure that they went… elsewhere for their imbibing."

"Christ, you do that here in a _saloon_?" Alice frowned.

"It means drink," Aiden said quietly as he sipped his whiskey, "dumbass…"

The right corner of Genevieve's mouth pulled up into a half-smile. Shelby leaned forwards, his brown eyes examining Aiden. "Well, aren't you an intriguing cowboy?" Shelby smiled. "Cast out from high-society in search of adventure and thrills? No, wait! Don't tell me, you're…" Shelby rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Your father was a schoolmaster and killed by lawmen, so you hunted him down for revenge!"

"Oh, it's _quite_ a tale, ain't it?" Alice beamed. "Go on, tell 'em how sour-face McKneil became an outlaw."

Aiden's hazel eyes flickered over to Genevieve for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Mr. Davenport, we ain't thugs. We're just here to mind our business and our lives – now, while we ain't exactly lawful, we ain't in the business of stirring up trouble neither."

Alice groaned. "You sound exactly like daddy…"

"Do y'all know how much money this saloon makes?" Shelby asked. Aiden shrugged. "Oh, go on, guess- please!"

Aiden looked to Alice, who shrugged as well. "Per night?" Aiden scratched the stubble on his chin. "Hundred dollars?"

"We make that thrice over on a Sunday."

"Shit…" Aiden chuckled.

"Yeah, ain't no Catholics 'round here…" Shelby paused, examining the two outlaws with narrowed eyes. "Y'all ain't Catholics, are y'all?"

Alice snorted. "I dunno, McKneil, _are_ we Catholics?"

"I don't reckon we're much of anything, sir," Aiden said to Shelby, casting an eye over to Alice.

A silence fell over the table as Avery sipped his whiskey. The doors opened and a young man walked in, with pomade thick in his hair, clear tanned skin and a thin moustache. He rested on his cane and cleared his throat until Shelby caught sight of him.

"Ah, Mr. LaBelle," Shelby stood up. "Go upstairs, I'll join you presently." Shelby got to his feet and glanced back to his nephew and niece. "Come along tonight around seven. Darling Genny, Sweet Avie…" Shelby looked to his new associate. "I'll see you tonight, muffin."

With that, Shelby Davenport climbed the spiral stairs with Mr. LaBelle. Aiden glanced to Genny and cleared his throat, very aware of the sweat on his neck. Alice stood up and sauntered around to the bar, eyes on the woman.

"So, what do you do, Genny Davenport?" Alice gestured to the bartender, who picked up a bottle of liquor.

"Nothing, Miss MacKenzie," Genevieve replied curtly.

"Sounds about right…" Alice chortled as she snatched the bottle from the bartender. "A fine lady of high society…"

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Aiden said quietly, scratching his chin.

Alice turned around, eyebrows raised. "Well, you a knight in shining armour, or an outlaw covered in horse-shit?"

"Just a regular good guy," Aiden replied dryly. "As per usual."

"_So_ good…" Alice rolled her eyes and turned to Avery. "And you, you a shootist or just trying to look like one?"

"I can handle my gun just fine."

"That so?" Alice grinned, taking a swig of the bottle and setting it down on the table. "You the best 'round here?"

"I think I could say that with some honesty, yes, ma'am."

"Ma'am…" Alice chortled. "You best address me as ma'am and open all the doors for me now!"

"Leave the boy alone."

"Why?" Alice barked. "The boy thinks he's a shootist, I'm giving him the chance to prove it." Alice drew her steel revolver and rested it on the table next to Avery. "You care to show your luck, friend?"

"I'm not in the business of killing women." Avery said politely.

"Miss MacKenzie, I must insist-" Genevieve began.

"Well, try not to." Alice straightened up. "C'mon, shootist. _I_ insist."

"I'm telling you, woman," Aiden growled.

"Telling me what?"

"He doesn't want you shooting a boy that's not even eighteen yet," Genevieve snapped.

Alice turned to her, grinning widely as she twirled a finger around in her red hair as she examined Genevieve's reddening cheeks – like blood on a china plate. "You enjoy seeing him be a big strong man? That the sort of thing that gets you slick like an eel-"

"Shut it, woman," Aiden barked to Alice, but it only made her chuckle more.

"First Lana, now this- you really ain't got _no_ type, have ya?"

"Don't test me." Aiden stood up and walked across to Alice, resting a hand on the eagle etched upon the white hilt of his black revolver. "I'll put a bullet in you, don't think I won't…"

Alice grinned and picked up her revolver. "No, you won't."

Aiden glanced to Avery, who glared at Alice. "I'm just tired of you toying with him is all."

Alice chuckled, slowly putting her revolver back into its holster and holding up both her hands. "Forgive me, Mr. McKneil," she said, pretending to beg, "please don't shoot me, mister. I see the error of my ways now!"

Aiden grabbed Alice by the shoulder and shoved her towards the door, looking back to Genevieve.

Genevieve didn't know what to make of him. He was different, certainly, but he was an outlaw. She hadn't known many, but if they were like Alice, or the drunken Irish fop from the cotillion…

And he killed people. Not for anything other than money. Good, innocent people – outlaws didn't kill other outlaws. No better than her father's… hounds, she supposed. And here they were – doing whatever it meant for money. It was only when her Uncle Shelby mentioned money that he suddenly forgot all he'd said about not being thugs. A man that changed his tune that frequently…

She didn't know why she had expected otherwise – she didn't know the man at all.

**And that's all for now! Next chapter will be up at some point this week before Friday. **

**R.**


	6. Whiskey, Wine & Shine

**Happy Halloween! No themed chapter here or anything because I plan these stories, but not that much… **

**So, here's the next chapter. I'm still chopping and changing, but I'm excited to write the next chapter. Not sure what it'll be called yet, but it's a gang/Davenport chapter, so I'm sure you'll all enjoy it.**

**Anyhoo, here's ****_Whiskey, Wine & Shine_****!**

_24__th__ June, 1902_

_Hill Haven Ranch, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Samuel Nicholas Washington was fourteen, scrawny and exhausted. He'd been carrying crates of eggs for some twenty minutes and before that had been shovelling cow shit for thirty. He wiped the sweat from his narrow face and rubbed his sore back, looking at the setting sun. Just a couple more minutes and the cool night air would make his work go by all that much quicker…

Hill Haven Ranch was on the side of a hill a ride north of Rhodes. Of course, Sam wasn't actually _from_ Rhodes. He was from further North – way farther than Ambarino. Sam was born back in Boston. That was before his no-good bastard of a father had taken him down south to seek their riches… Well, at least the son of a bitch was deep in the ground now.

"Sam," came the tattered voice of Old Man Mercer, a grizzled coot with a wooden leg. He grunted with each step and squinted at the young boy. "Sam, that you, yeah?"

"Yeah, it's me," Sam replied as he walked back to him.

"The hell you still messing 'round with them chickens for? It's time to shoot!"

"But I-" Sam groaned and hurried back to the main house, setting down the crate of eggs on the porch and rubbing his hands on his brown trousers. Mercer took the gunbelt from around his waist and gave it to Sam.

It was rough – cheap leather that'd been crinkled and worn and not treated well. The belt was a bit too big for Sam, so the plain birch of the silver revolver hung low… but Sam was learning.

He cocked back the hammer of the revolver and took aim at the empty tins Mercer set up on the corral of the cattle.

"No, you don't snatch at the trigger, hear?" Mercer told him. "You just point and aim."

"You sure that's all there is to it?" Sam frowned.

"'Course I am." Mercer shrugged. "What else is there?"

"Well, don't folk do like… tricks with 'em?"

"Fool," Mercer said under his breath. "Shoot the damned tins, boy."

* * *

Night's Hawk didn't like alcohol. Coffee was… nice in the way he supposed people could find tobacco nice, but alcohol made him feel slow. Vulnerable. He was sat at the campfire on one of the logs, making himself some more arrows whilst the others all talked about… well, Night's Hawk didn't know what they were talking about.

"I reckon…" Matty stroked the small tufts of hair on his chin and then grinned. "Rich as Croesus, in a bed with all these foreign beauties that all start cryin' over losing the greatest treasure known to man." The other men around the campfire groaned at Matty's usual joke.

"You being this great treasure then?" Near cocked an eyebrow.

"Aye, of course I am!"

"Well, I reckon you're worth a fair bit to the law…"

"Alright, old man, how'd you like to go?"

Near rubbed a hand across his shorn head and smiled. "Seeing the sunset… one last time."

"Oh, grand, sounds _so_ much better than mine…" Matty rolled his eyes.

"And if I'm surrounded by my family…" Near nodded (ignoring Matty) and glanced down into the fire. "That's all that matters, in the end." Near glanced up to Father Elijah. "Your turn, preacher."

Father Elijah shook his head. "I suppose I'd like to be unafraid. Knowing that… people will remember me."

"By people, you mean your flock?" Near asked. "An outfit of wayward souls?" He and Matty shared a chuckle. "Night's Hawk, c'mon, share – we're talking about how we'd like to die."

"You talk about that?" Night's Hawk looked between the men.

"Of course! So, before you die – one thing you'd like to do."

Night's Hawk glanced around. Rolling fields, red clay, hot, wet air… nothing felt familiar to him. The people in town felt like cougars in the woods… that's when Night's Hawk realised what he wanted. "I'd like to go home," he said finally. "See my mother and father… be buried besides them."

Matty's laughter died down and he quietly cleared his throat, finally breathing quietly. "That's pretty good…" Matty said finally, looking into the fire. "I wouldn't mind seeing Holt… the ol' sullen bastard…"

"Them folk I lost," Near said, looking around at the others, "I want to find them. If they're dead, I'll mourn them, and if they're alive…" Near shook his head, "I don't much want to live in a fantasy…"

"But you are," Parker said, looking up from the flames. "We all are, Near. Outlaw life, gunsmoke and…" Parker shook his head. "Aiden's right, that time's finished. Them O'Driscoll's, the Van Der Linde's – outlaws are dead and gone. All that's left is… maniacs like the Skinner Brothers…"

"No," Near replied, "we're still here. Folk have been saying outlaws are dead since I was a whippersnapper."

"Ey, don't you go changin' the subject!" Matty pointed at Parker. "Your turn to say how you'll go."

"It doesn't much matter…" Parker shrugged. "If I die, I'll die. No say in how it happens, so why waste my breath?"

* * *

The Parlour House was lively, full of rowdy citizens of Rhodes. They chanted songs and swapped out dollar bills for glasses of whatever they could get. Outside, smoking a cigarette, was Aiden McKneil.

What a goddamn mess they were in… chased out of the West, where they could truly flourish. Out in the South where they hated everyone that wasn't a Rebel. Most of all, they were in civilization. The dirtiest, cheapest thing in the world. An open range with his father's hat on Ryder… that was what Aiden wanted.

Aiden paused a couple of men, checking to see they weren't carrying weapons before letting them enter.

Sauntering out of the saloon was Alice, drinking a bottle of shine dry. She groaned, finally, tipping the bottle upside down and finding it empty. "These folk…" Alice groaned as she looked around. "Why is all their drink weak?"

"Maybe it's just their shine?"

"I've tried their whiskey, wine _and_ their shine, it's all shit."

"Try gin then." Aiden rubbed the back of his neck – at least if Alice was drunk, she wouldn't be so testy. But Alice's dark eyes settled on Aiden for a moment and her lips parted into a wide grin.

"How come you and me ain't ever cosied up in bed before?"

Aiden's hazel eyes flickered towards the woman before he scoffed. "You're drunk."

"You ain't never thought about it?"  
"No."

"Not once?" Aiden scoffed again and looked away from Alice. "Ah, yes, you have…"

"I've thought about doing a lot of things to you, but sex ain't one of them…"

Alice grinned. "You know how to make a gal feel special, you know that?"

"No doubt…" Aiden murmured. He saw a figure coming along with a shawl wrapped around her head. "You want to check this one?"  
"A lone woman on her own? You sure you don't want to hold her hand and tell her she's pretty?"

Aiden rolled his eyes. "Go check your door…" Alice gave a lazy salute and careened back around to the other side of the saloon. Aiden came closer and recognized the dark hair and the deep, glimmering blue eyes. The china-pale skin and round features. "Miss Davenport," Aiden gripped his belt buckle. "Good to see you again, Miss."

"Nice to see you doing some _legal_ work, Mr. McKneil," Genevieve clasped the small bag in her hands tighter.

"Yeah, well, it ain't too different from what we usually do…" Aiden shrugged. Genevieve paused, watching the young man ruffle back his dark hair. She examined the small scrapes and nicks that decorated his hands and forearms.

"What _do_ you usually do? You and Miss…" She forgot the name.

"Miss?"

"I already know you're outlaws, but what does that mean?" Genevieve paused. "Besides being outside the law?"

"We…" Aiden wasn't really used to talking about the gang. Maybe he'd spent too long with Luca and Ava – could barely talk to a stranger without lying. But with Genevieve… well, he found himself at ease with her. As if he didn't have to think about protecting Charlotte and Abuela, making sure Rune's plans were executed properly and Alice wasn't disrupting things… he didn't have to look after Matty or prod Night's Hawk into talking. It was just… easy. "We kill people we don't like," Aiden admitted. "We rob folk who have got too much but… we help those who don't. We're a family, I guess. Y'know, Rune, he… he wants us to look out for those who don't have no-one else."

Genevieve nodded. He certainly didn't seem bloodthirsty or arrogant like she'd expected the outlaw to be. Maybe it was because he from West of here (so she'd deduced from his accent), or maybe it was because he spent all his time out in the wilderness but… he was nice. Decent.

"You're…" Genevieve didn't even know what she was going to say. She just shook her head and let out a small chuckle. "I don't even know…"

"I sound like a fool, don't I?"

"No, no you really don't," Genevieve said with a smile. The streaks of gold in Aiden's eyes seemed brighter in the firelight. He felt a tingle in his stomach, his throat tightening as he cleared his throat.

"Are you meeting someone here, Miss?"

"I…" Genevieve blinked at his sudden formality. "No, I'm not."

Aiden nodded. Could he take a moment off his work to have a drink with her? He… well, he wanted to, he knew that for certain, but he'd been hired to provide security. It was like a promise to him – it was something he couldn't break. That wasn't how Rune had raised him.

Glasses smashed inside and Genevieve's blue eyes flickered towards the Parlour House. Aiden turned around and put an arm in front of Genevieve, opening the door and entering through the doors.

Gareth was perplexed. He didn't really get it. His green eyes narrowed as he leant on the bar, his head tilting at the bartender.

"What do ya mean, 'barred'?"

"I…" The bartender cleared his throat. "Meaning no offense, Mr. Maxwell, but I've been told-"

"The agreement with _Ambrose Davenport_ is that we drink for free. Now ya'd show us out?" Gareth flicked his tongue across his lips and nodded to Lot, who twirled a knife out from his belt and sank it through the bartender's wrist, pinning his hand to the bar. The bartender yelped in pain and Gareth leant into his ear. "We're the damn Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders," Gareth hissed.

"Shouldn't have used his right hand," a woman said from the other end of the bar, who poured herself a glass of shine. "Fella ain't pretty enough to have a woman…"

Gareth rubbed the stubble on his chin. The woman was red-haired, sharp-faced and, most importantly, dressed in men's trousers. She had a silver Schofield revolver on each thigh, sat inside a pair of crisp, dark brown holsters.

"Y'ain't from 'round here," Gareth said.

"And _that_ is?" The woman pointed to one of the men with Gareth. The man she pointed to might've been seven feet tall – it wasn't important how tall he was, he still towered over everyone in the Parlour House. He was slack jawed and mean-faced. A hulking giant of muscle and fury and little much else besides.

"Titus here came from a cave somewhere," Gareth grinned. "Ain't no telling _where_ exactly, but his heart is as Dixie as any other man's 'round these parts."

"Wow…" the woman knocked back her glass of shine and began to pour herself another as she sauntered around the bar. "I'm sure them Rebels are _real_ proud 'bout having some dolts like you flying their banner…"

Titus' fist came down on a beer bottle that sat on the bar. It shattered into tiny fragments and Titus didn't flinch.

The door opened and in entered another stranger. A man who looked to be a good ten years or so older than Gareth. He wore a crisp white shirt and a brown hat, with a pair of revolvers on his belt also. He and the woman were the only two strangers in the Parlour House – the only two that were also armed.

"There some trouble here, Alice?" The man asked the woman.

"Oh, I wouldn't say _trouble_…" the red-haired woman grinned, "though I think we've met someone who's more your type…" She nodded to Titus.

"Who're y'all?" Gareth asked, walking towards the man. "Don't sound like y'all're from these parts."

"We ain't," the man replied. "Mr. Davenport told us to keep some folk outta here."

"That so?" Gareth rubbed his jaw, amused. "Well, if y'all ain't from the South, y'all must be Yankees!"

"That's some fine logic you got there, boy."

"You've heard of the Brotherhood, ain't ya?" Gareth took a cigarette out of a carton. "Y'know, outlaws…" Gareth mockingly gasped. "Hope we don't frighten y'all!"

"Oh, McKneil, let me put a bullet in him, _please_," groaned Alice.

"Yeah, go on, McKneil, let her do it!" Gareth grinned.

"Keep talking and I might."

"Ooh-hoo-hoo…" Gareth walked back to Titus and Lot. "Alright, mister, we'll leave…" Gareth lit his cigarette. "But, first, we think y'all might as well buy us a bottle of shine for the road."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Aiden growled.

"Someone you don't want to mess with…"

"Oh, say the word, McKneil…" Alice muttered, hand on her hilt.

"Girlie…" Titus' voice rumbled low.

"My name ain't _girlie_-"

"Oh, for Christ's…" Came a new voice. Everyone looked over to see Genevieve Davenport pull the shawl from around her hair and reveal her face. She walked up to the bar and leant over, grabbing a bottle of shine and shoving it into Gareth's hands. "Mr. Maxwell, you've got what you want. Now please leave."

Gareth grinned, rubbing his lips as he looked up to Aiden. "That wasn't too hard, now, was it?"

"Get the hell out," Aiden snarled.

Gareth flashed a wide, toothy grin and held up an open hand. "No trouble, partner." He walked back, waving the bottle to Alice. "Lookin' forward to seeing ya again, lady."

"I ain't no lady neither."

"Ain't a girl, ain't a lady…" Lot snickered to himself, hocking up phlegm from the back of his throat and spitting it onto the floor. "What the hells are ya?"

"A gunfighter, moron."

Lot howled with laughter and cackled loudly. "Y'all are strange folk…"

"Mr. Maxwell," Genevieve said, exasperated, "please leave." The look Titus gave her – the seedy grin and wandering eyes – it made her skin crawl.

"You heard the lady," Aiden said, a hand wrapping around the white hilt of his revolver.

"No guns," Titus barked, grabbing Aiden's wrist. Aiden responded by thrusting his head forwards into Titus' nose with a crack. Titus groaned and then punched Aiden in the face – hard.

Aiden tumbled backwards, holding his face as Alice threw her bottle of shine across the bar, hitting Titus in the eye. There was blood and screaming and Lot scurried across to Alice, tackling her to the floor, clawing at her face.

"Alright, you son of a bitch…" Gareth muttered as he began to kick Aiden hard in the ribs. Aiden groaned with each strike, finally placing a foot on Gareth's waist and pushing him back before scrambling to his feet.

"Goddamn… bastard…" Alice grunted as she grabbed Lot's throat and kneed him in the groin. She threw him onto his back and tackled him, taking one of his knives and carving up his face.

Aiden ducked beneath Titus' mighty swipe and swung his fist into Titus' cheek. A moment later, Aiden was holding his knuckles, cussing in pain. Titus had barely moved.

"C'mon, boys, don't let these Yankees give y'all a hiding!" Gareth shouted as he hopped up onto the bar, drinking from his bottle of shine with glee as he watched the brawl unfold.

Alice lifted up Lot by his hair and punched him in the stomach before throwing him by the head out of the window. She turned around to see Aiden blocking a strike with both hands and falling onto the bar. He kicked Titus' knee and grabbed a fistful of his hair, throwing punch after punch after punch into the man's face and letting out a hiss of pain each time.

"That's enough, now, Yankee." Gareth's voice was followed by the clicking of a hammer. Aiden looked over to see Gareth lazily pointing a revolver at him while having a swig of moonshine.

Alice's hand crept towards the black grip of her revolver, but Genevieve came between Aiden and Gareth, pushing Aiden back towards Alice.

"Get the damn hell off of that man!"

"He started it!" Aiden barked at Genevieve.

"Mr. Maxwell, leave or I'll be having words with your father."

Gareth hopped off the bar, licking his lips. "My daddy ain't got time for you-"

"Has he got time for my uncle?"

"Ol' Ambrose don't scare no-one-"

"I'm talking about my mother's brother."

Gareth swallowed and nodded, kicking Titus in the leg. "C'mon, ya sack of shit… got ourselves some shine. S'all we wanted…" Gareth gave a mocking bow to Genevieve. "My Lady…"

"I'm warning you, Gareth Maxwell…"

And with that, Titus crawled out after Gareth, walking around the Parlour House to pick up Lot and leave.

Genevieve cast her dark, entrancing blue eyes over Aiden. She'd just witnessed the man bark and snarl like a hound before beating a man in the face twice his size! Before that, he'd pulled on his gun… He was just as wild as Alice was.

How foolish she had been to think that… well, it didn't matter what she was thinking. She just knew that she was a fool.

**So, that's the chapter done. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter (it might've dragged on a bit). I'll get started on the next chapter and have it up in about a week. For now, that's all folks.**


	7. Partnered

**So, bit of a late update, but better than never, right? Pretty sure that's a saying, so it's gotta be true.**

**Yeah, this chapter turned out being a bit longer than I thought it would be, hence the delay in updating. Fun fact – we're almost at the halfway point in this instalment and… well, there's a ton of stuff planned for this instalment. Basically, I'm trying to outdo both of the previous instalments put together.**

_3__rd__ July, 1902_

_Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Ava dipped the crepe handkerchief against the crushed flowers and then gently rubbed the cloth against Charlotte's cheeks. It'd taken Ava many years to learn how to properly wear enough rouge to be beautiful. The talent didn't lie in knowing which flowers to crush, but _how_ much to crush. If Charlotte could learn this, well, it'd save her a good few years of looking like a clown.

Ava took the small mirror out from her trunk and held it up, still examining her eyes – she'd had to use soot for her eyes and some old pink lip salve she'd grown unsatisfied with, but it was good for Charlotte. Her skin was pale enough for it to blend well with her skin.

Charlotte set eyes on her reflection. She looked… well, she looked more like Ava. In a word, she was prettier. A _woman_. She smiled widely and looked at Ava.

"I'm pretty."

"You're beautiful," Ava said as she ran a hand through Charlotte's hair. It was slightly frizzy and wavy – perhaps she could curl it for her… "You always are, _ma vie_."

Charlotte put the mirror down and looked at Ava, once again entranced by her beauty. She looked at her russet hair that fell past her shoulders in a delicately complex braid. Charlotte's own blonde hair been combed and braided by Paloma, so there was very little flair to it. "Can you make my hair like yours?"

It was a strange feeling for Ava. She never planned on having children, so she'd never thought to waste the time on thinking about it. Aveline Delacroix wasn't much for chasing dreams, though it seemed that was exactly what she was doing with this rum crowd. But seeing a child smile because of something _she_ did, having that same child ask her to do more… it made her happy.

She couldn't fight for the gang or kill and seemed to only ever be used for her beauty. Her face. She sometimes felt as much a gang member as a tent was. But being able to use what irrelevant, seemingly frivolous skills she had to make someone she cared about happy? That was enough for her.

* * *

Rune exited his burgundy tent, clad in his fine black jacket and azure vest, he held his stalker hat in one hand. With all the money they were making from the Davenports, he was able to dress as he used to back in the army. Where he was a man of quality, of class, even. And in the drunken depths of the south, he was able to find he was that man once again. Only now he wasn't in an army, he _had_ an army.

"Ready, Mr. Brody?" Aiden asked, rubbing a hand against the stubble on his jaw.

"What, you run out of razors?"

"I just don't see the point in getting prissy for folk…"

"Oh, yes, _that's_ why you're wearing a fancy new shirt…" Rune chuckled as he pulled on the collar of Aiden's white shirt. Aiden slapped away Rune's hand and glanced over to Anna from across the camp, giving her a nod. "What do you make of our latest addition?" Rune asked Aiden, who shrugged.

"Honestly?"

"No, I want you to lie, you dolt…" Rune said as he filled his pipe with tobacco.

Aiden rolled his eyes. "I don't much know why you _want_ her in the gang…"

"You didn't want Charlotte in the gang at first neither," Rune pointed out.

"I didn't want a kid on the run from the law with us," Aiden replied. "There's a difference."

"Whatever you say."

Aiden crossed his arms. "What is it with you and strays, Rune? Alice, Night's Hawk…"

"As I recall, Night's Hawk was _your_ doing."

"Now, I just thought-"

"That's your problem, son," Rune said as he slapped Aiden's shoulder, "leave the thinking to me."

Rune looked over Aiden's shoulder to see Ava twining Charlotte's pale blonde hair into complex plaits. He clapped eyes on Charlotte's painted face and the air vanished from his lungs. She was a child, _his_ child, and Ava was dressing her like a _whore_? How long until she'd be taking her to saloons and teaching her how to charm men? She'd attract the wrong sort of man with a face like that…

Rune marched across camp, hands balled into fists and removed Ava's hands from Charlotte's hair, walking her into the middle of camp. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" Rune hissed.

"I'm just braiding her-"

"You see yourself as Miss Kitty, now, is that it?"

"She's growing into a woman, Rune," Ava replied. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"She ain't like you," Rune said lowly, trying as hard as possible not to lose his temper in front of Charlotte. "Don't make the mistake of thinking she is. _Ever_. She ain't your daughter-"

"And she ain't yours either-"

Rune's hand flew across Ava's face. He didn't even think or realise he'd done it until Ava held her sore, red cheek, looking up at him with wide eyes. Rune breathed heavily, full of a storm of rage. Not at Ava, anymore – at himself. He'd hit not just a woman, but a member of _his_ family.

His blue-grey eyes moved across camp, where everyone had frozen to see what had happened. Paloma, Lana, Anna – they all looked at Rune with furrowed brows, giving him a wide berth. For the first time in the four years of the gang's existence, it was almost as if they were _afraid _of him.

"Rune," Aiden said lowly, putting a hand on the older man's shoulder.

"I…" Rune didn't know what to say. He wanted to apologise, but he… he wasn't wrong in what he said, just what he _did_. "I-"

"Let's get out of here, Rune," Aiden muttered as he pulled on Rune's shoulder.

"No, I… Ava-"

"Rune," Near's voice crackled as the old man stood up and walked over as Ava fled to her tent. "Not now. Later."

Rune looked into Near's brown eyes and slowly nodded. Tempers ran high, it wasn't the time to mend things… Rune cleared his throat and turned over to Luca. "D'Angelo, we've an appointment to keep!"

Rune made his way towards his horse, Copper, followed closely by Luca, who closely watched Rune, trying to figure out the mess of what had just happened. Aiden and Near looked to each other for a moment, uncertain of why Rune had struck Ava.

"Keep an eye on him," Near instructed Aiden, who gave a nod and walked away to mount Ryder.

* * *

Braithwaite Manor had once been a jewel of Scarlett Meadows – or so Roy Davenport had been told. He'd only ever known it as the burning mess of charcoal and ashes it'd been since he'd arrived in Rhodes. But in chaos, there was also opportunity – a family of ranch hands with no employer left. So, Roy did what he did best – he'd taken them into his employ. Now he kept the land for its cornfields and land for a stud farm.

Roy saw the three horses gallop towards him in the distance and looked over to Thomas Cooper, giving him a nod. The grizzled half-blind hand let out a whistle and several Braithwaite hands came closer, rifles leaning on their shoulders.

"Out of curiosity, Davenport…" Thomas sucked on a cigarette. "You distrust them 'cos their outlaws or 'cos they're Yankees?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me – and certainly not to my iron…"

"I distrust them because I distrust everyone."

Roy removed his cigar and walked forwards, holding his hands out to greet the riders. Rune Brody, Aiden McKneil and Luca D'Angelo. Roy watched them hitch their horses and set eyes on the charred remains of the manor.

"I'd figure a man like you could rebuild this." Rune gestured to the wreckage as he shook hands with Roy.

"There are no men like me, Mr. Brody," Rune replied with a chuckle. "You are familiar with my wife, Mrs. Valentina Davenport?"

"Y'know, I do not believe I've had the pleasure."

"Ma'am." Rune tipped his hat to her. "May I introduce to Signor D'Angelo and Mr. McKneil?"

"You may," Valentina simpered. "You almost sound like a gentleman." Rune swallowed hard. '_Almost_' a gentleman. "This is my eldest, Miss Genevieve, and her intended, Mr. Durand."

"Huh?" Aiden grunted, looking from Genevieve to Lucien. Genevieve shared Aiden's expression.

"I had been hoping to inform Genevieve…" Lucien said quietly.

"Oh, why wait?" Roy smiled. It wasn't just Genevieve who'd noticed Aiden's reaction. It was also Valentina Davenport.

"I agree…" Valentina said slowly, her dark blue eyes burrowing into Aiden's hazel ones. "Shall we?"

The three men nodded and the troupe began their walk of the grounds.

* * *

"This all used to belong to the Braithwaites, as Mr. D'Angelo knows well… and just beyond these cornfields…" Rune Brody pointed at the barn with his cigar, "is where we keep some of the studs- you've never seen the like, Brody. I swear, it puts the Arabians of Saint Denis to shame."

"Is that so?" Rune's pale eyes flickered over to Aiden's bored face before giving him a gentle nudge.

"Oh, an Arabian's a fine horse, but not for racing," Roy continued.

"You seem to be quite knowledgeable on this, sir."

"It's a pastime of my husbands," Valentina commented.

"Ah, I've never been one for pastimes," Roy said, waving his hand. "A side-business, if anything… There's no-one with finer horses around." Roy pointed to the rose grey bey Arabian that was led by a Braithwaite. "Here, for instance, is Genevieve's mare, Rosie."

"Rosemary," Genevieve corrected Roy.

"She's…" Lucien licked his lips, looking to Genevieve. "She's very lovely. A fine horse for a woman."

Luca glanced over to Aiden with a smirk. Once, Luca owned horses – he'd bought a fair few from Aiden and Rune back when he still had a ranch. Horses were meant to be fast, strong and healthy. A pretty horse was like a fancy dress for Lana or Alice – impractical.

"Arabian," Rune nodded, glancing to Aiden. "Right?" Aiden nodded to confirm.

"Your boy knows horses?" Roy raised an eyebrow.

Aiden shrugged in response and Rune chuckled. "He has _quite_ the affinity for them. Ain't never been a horse this boy here couldn't ride."

Genevieve frowned at Aiden. Why would a gunfighter have an 'affinity' for horses? "How so?"

"Well, our boy here has been around horses since he was… how old?" He looked to Aiden. "About six or so? Yay high?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Aiden groaned.

"Oh, he's _always_ loved 'em. Y'know, at sixteen, most boys were slinking off to the saloon but our boy here would go out to ride the horses and make sure they weren't getting all pent up!"

"Alright, Rune…" Aiden murmured. Genevieve smiled widely, the dimples in her cheeks showing. She'd never seen someone quite so abashed – he was like a schoolboy!

"He don't believe in buying horses neither," Luca pointed out. "Caught Ryder in the wild, didn't ya?"

"How long did it take you?" Genevieve asked Aiden.

"It ain't that important, really," Aiden tried to protest.

"Couldn't agree more," Lucien murmured.

"Took ya 'bout twenty minutes or so?" Luca continued to ask Aiden, who shrugged.

"You broke a wild horse in-"

"I didn't _break_ no horse," Aiden replied curtly. "I just sort… sort of partnered with him."

"_Partnered_ with a horse?" Lucien scoffed. "Is that _normal_ for Yankees?"

Aiden turned around to look at Lucien, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Genevieve suddenly felt something in her tighten – like a rope being pulled taut. She'd seen that look in his eye back in the Parlour House…

"C'mon, McKneil," Luca murmured as he pulled on Aiden's arm, "he doesn't understand is all…"

Whilst this happened, Valentina kept her eyes on her daughter's face. Eyes entranced on him, veins bold in her neck… she took notice of him. Well, of course, Genevieve was a caged bird. What would she do upon seeing a wild creature?

"Vivi, sweetie," Valentina said slowly, "I think you should return to Caliga Hall now. Take Rosemary… Thomas?"

"Thomas is needed here," Roy said, brow furrowed.

Lucien opened his mouth to offer, but Rune beat him to it. "Well, Aiden here seems unable to behave like a proper adult – maybe he can be Miss Genevieve's escort instead?"

"A guard dog?" Roy nodded. "See to it she gets home safe, Mr. McKneil."

"Sir." Aiden nodded, his eyes glimpsing to Lucien before walking beside Genevieve, who linked her arm in his.

As Valentina saw her eldest daughter walking away from her fiancé, arm-in-arm with some dusty, low-down brute, she felt something. The hot whips of panic lashing against the back of her neck. It wasn't just that a mere hour ago, she had her daughter engaged to a bank manager, it was that her eldest daughter was prone to melancholy – she spent so long away from the family, out with her decrepit uncle Ambrose and his depraved brother, Shelby. She had a habit of being drawn to the stranger, abnormal types.

"Your man," Valentina said slowly to Rune, "he's a respectable sort, is he?"

Luca loudly scoffed from behind them. "Respectable?" Rune asked her, trying his best to ignore Luca. "How do you mean?"

"He's now with my daughter, Genevieve – he's not to take advantage of her. The woods can be dangerous after dark…"

"We're outlaws, Mrs. Davenport," Rune said quickly, "not criminals. Now, while there are some of us who like trouble a bit too much, that boy is not one of them."

Valentina rolled her eyes. "He's killed people?"

"Haven't we all?"

"It doesn't matter if _we_ do," Valentina scoffed, "that's _us_, not _you_."

"What's the difference?" Rune frowned, looking at Roy, who began laughing.

"Don't pretend you don't know, Mr. Brody."

"Know _what_?"

"You…" Roy gestured to Rune. "You know, Mr. Bro-"

"You're fucking scum," Thomas said loudly, "no mistake."

Roy let out a slight chuckle. "My associate is a little blunt but…" He held out his hands. "Negroes, Kikes, Redskins- there's an order to things…" He clasped his hands again. "But there's an order in those who share the same skin. See, you've… you're remarkable men with guns, Mr. Brody, but…" Roy shook his head, slightly amused by Rune's mistake. "We ain't equal. Fact is that we're just plain better than you. We don't want to be, we didn't ask to be, we just are."

Something rumbled in Rune's chest. Something about the man in front of him saying they weren't the same. But they'd both been put on Earth. Roy Davenport was no more superior to Rune than any other fool that claimed the same. Like Frederick Herridge or that crone, Mama Watson.

"Of course, Mr. Davenport." Rune said tersely, nodding his head slightly as he tried to plaster on a smile.

The man was a bastard, and Rune would show him just what an _inferior_ was capable of.

* * *

Genevieve admired Aiden's horse. Not because of it's palomino coat, fine white mane or imposing stature, but because the horse seemed to respond to Aiden's voice in a way that she'd never seen a horse respond before. Aiden would press his hand against the neck and smack his lips and the stallion would nicker in response.

He didn't seem much like the rough and tough outlaw he appeared to be. He gave a small smile to himself as the horse nickered and murmured under his breath. "Yeah, boy…" Aiden crooned softly, like a boy would to his favourite dog, "you're doing fine…"

"You really like your horse, don't you?" Genevieve said, somewhat fondly – how couldn't she like someone who showed compassion to his horse?

"Why shouldn't I?" Aiden asked absent-mindedly.

"Because you're a bloodthirsty outlaw."

"Bloodthirsty?" Aiden raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You seemed to be when you were beating Titus."

"Who?"

"Ti- the big man at the Parlour House."

Aiden nodded, recalling the behemoth. "What does it matter to you if I'm bloodthirsty?"

"It doesn't," Genevieve responded quickly.

"Don't sound like-"

"You said that you partnered with your horse," Genevieve said, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks.

"Yeah?"

Genevieve waited for him to explain as they trotted through town. She immediately felt the weight of eyes on her – being escorted by a rough-and-tumble outlaw in broad daylight? It wasn't befitting a member of high society at all. It wasn't that she felt embarrassed, it's just that she knew she should have. Instead, she turned her attention to Aiden, oblivious to their eyes and ruffling a hand through his stallion's white hair.

"Like… if you whip your horses, or tie a leg to a post and grab their ears- whatever it is, they won't like you for it. You break 'em and teach 'em to fear you. I don't want no horse of mine to see me like that is all."

Genevieve frowned. Avery was the person in her family that seemed the most gentle and considerate, but that was possibly the sweetest thing she'd heard in her whole life. The dimples in her cheeks emerged as she began to smile in wonder. "Why are you nice to me?"

The question caught Aiden off-guard. He blinked and looked up from Ryder, face all crumpled up in confusion. "Huh?"

"I mean, the other night I see you damn-near knock the life out of a man, but now you're being a gentleman, escorting me home and… talking about how much you care about your horse."

Aiden was a little bemused by being mistaken as a gentleman, but something else amused him moreso – she sounded strange saying 'damn'. "I ain't never heard a lady cuss before…"

"How many ladies have you met?"

Aiden chuckled to himself, unable to hide his grin. "Fair enough…"

"I just… you don't seem like the type to kill people." Genevieve trotted along to Caliga Hall with Aiden, stopping in the tobacco fields and dismounting her horse, leading it towards the stables with Aiden following. Aiden shrugged in response. "How can you do that?"

"Kill folk? It ain't that difficult…"

"No, I mean… separate those two parts to yourself?"

"Two parts?" Aiden frowned. "Being an outlaw doesn't mean you just… drink whiskey and shoot folk all day long."

"It doesn't?"

"Well, not for us. Ain't never been as easy as all that…"

"Then why choose it?"

"_Choose_ it?" Aiden stared at her with fierce disdain. "I ain't never chose this, I had no say in this…" Aiden wrapped the leather reins of Ryder around a post and walked closer to lean against the wooden posts, watching Genevieve walk her Arabian, Rosemary, in the stable.

"So, what did happen?" Genevieve asked as she stroked down Rosemary's coat and left the stables. "Why are all of you outlaws?"

"Different reasons for each of us," Aiden replied, closing the gate behind her. "Most of us, anyhow…"  
"You, then?"

Aiden shrugged. "Killed a couple people."

Genevieve nodded. A killer, then, as she'd expected. "Why?"

"It don't matter no more…" Aiden shrugged. He took a deep breath and looked up at Genevieve's deep blue eyes. It was strange, that moment. He knew it was just them looking at one another, but it was just so… _strong_, he supposed? There was a lot in that look. Aiden licked his lips for a moment, ready to say something… "I suppose I'll see you when…" Aiden shrugged. "When I see you, I guess…"

Genevieve quickly sprang forwards, all pretences of being a lady and the princess of Rhodes abandoned – thrown to the wind, even. She placed her pretty clean fingers on the creased, rough shirt and pressed her lips against his.

Genevieve had kissed people before – after all, her uncle _was_ Shelby Davenport, Bachelor of Rhodes. But this kiss was… it was like something was crackling in her lips. Something was passing through her skin…

And then she was reminded of the crushing realization of where she was and who may be watching. And what would happen to her if her mother found out. And what would happen to her family's reputation if Lucien found out. And people around Rhodes did love to gossip so…

Genevieve pulled away from Aiden, clearing her throat and smoothing down her dress. "Excuse me-" Genevieve began, swallowing hard as she tried to let her heart finish hammering out her nerves. "That was…" She shook her head and tried to settle her breathing. "Sorry… excuse me…" She turned around and walked away again before looking back to Aiden and smiling politely and then leaving once again.

**I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please remember to leave a review and I'll see you within a week or so!**

**R.**


	8. A Bloody Tale

**Bit of a gap in the update, but here's the next chapter. I just wanted to say thank you for the massive amount of reviews – I love how everyone's got their own opinions, love or hate the previous chapter. Anyway – onwards.**

_3__rd__ June, 1902_

_Caliga Hall, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Genevieve had finished dinner and laid her knife and fork on the right side of the plate as she watched Paradise talk and smile and laugh with her mother. Pari was only ever this happy when she had the attention – as soon as Gen started speaking, Pari would grow sullen and eventually throw a tantrum.

Genevieve knew that Paradise was her sister, but that didn't mean Pari was a good person, did it? It didn't mean that Genevieve had to stand by her, no matter what? But, then again, Roy had brought them up to think that way. 'There's no-one in the world you can trust other than a Davenport' he always said. Maybe Genevieve disbelieved him with so many other matters, she simply disregarded this out of pure habit?

Feeling somewhat disgruntled and plain exhausted at Pari's being Pari, Genevieve made her excuses and dabbed the corners of her mouth before leaving the napkin beside her china plate.

She climbed the stairs, flashing a smile to each of the servants as they bid her goodnight. She reached the top of the stairs and opened the white door to her room. Inside the green-walled bedroom, standing by the four-poster bed and flipping through the pages of one of her books was the dark-haired, stocky young man she'd kissed earlier.

She let out a yelp and slammed her door closed for a moment, her heart leaping up into her throat.

"Gen?" Roy called from the dining room. "Was that you?"

"Saw a spider," Genevieve lied, trying her best to sound calm.

"Women…" Genevieve heard Roy scoff. She quickly swept a hand to flatten any stray hairs and licked her lips before walking into the room.

Aiden had put the book back onto her table. He looked out of place – his clothes were tattered, with faded mud and blood stains on his trousers as well as several badly stitched bullet holes.

"You sound like that over a spider?" Aiden frowned.

"How did you get in?" Genevieve asked, but before Aiden could respond, she held up a hand. "I… actually, I don't want to know."

"Alright…" Aiden picked up his brown hat from her bed and began to rub his thumb over its rim.

"Why are you in my bedroom?" Genevieve asked. Of course – an outlaw would see things a certain way… "If you think because I kissed you, you can spend the night-"

"Oh, I ain't making that mistake," Aiden scoffed.

Genevieve raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?" She asked pointedly.

"Well, you kiss me and then apologise and walk away…" Aiden shrugged. "Ain't particularly flattering…"

"It's not like that…" Genevieve crossed her arms. "I didn't have you down as someone that would get upset over a kiss."

"And I didn't have you down as someone who don't think."  
"I-" Genevieve held up a finger, pointing it at him. But she supposed that was what had happened. It sounded bad, the way he said it, but… "You're right. I didn't think."

Aiden nodded, his jaw clenching. "Well…" He cleared his throat. "Good." His hazel eyes wouldn't meet her gaze and his fingers began to fiddle with his hat. She reminded him of the old rancher's boy, Sam Washington. Only fourteen, always nervous around Paradise.

"You look like a little schoolboy," Genevieve smiled, the dimples settling into her cheeks.

"No, I ain't…"

"You know before," Genevieve asked as she walked to the wooden poster opposite the one Aiden leant against, "when we talked about… or, rather, _not_ talked about it- why you became an outlaw, I mean?"

Aiden's face hardened and he was able to look her directly in the eye. "I told you, it don't matter."

"How can it 'not matter'?"

"Because it ain't going to change nothing, that's how."

Genevieve licked her lips as Aiden turned his gaze away from her. Maybe it wasn't greed. Maybe it was something much like what Shelby said – an outcast of high society? Or, perhaps, robbing a bank that took money from the poor and destitute? Either way, she was sure there was some death in the story. It was just who's that was the question. "You don't have to tell me," Genevieve said finally.

Aiden paused, face crumpled up in confusion. "Really?"

"It's…" Genevieve sighed. "It's your business. I'm sure a bloody tale isn't one you enjoy re-telling…"

Aiden rubbed the stubble on his jaw and bit his lip in thought. After a moment, he let out a long breath. "My pa raised horses," he explained. "Trained 'em, too. He was real good at it too – not the best… and he could be a real bastard sometimes but…" Aiden shrugged. "Taught me what he knew. Most of it, anyhow…"

"What about your mother?"

Aiden shrugged. "She died when I were a kid."

"Oh…" Genevieve's face creased in sympathy. "What rotten luck you've had…"

"Oh, there were others who had it worse back West," Aiden assured her. She smiled – she hadn't really met a person who acted like that before. Someone who so fervently rejected any reason for self-pity. Maybe that was why he didn't want to re-tell the story – being an outlaw was most likely reminder enough.

"You ain't half as bad as you think," Genevieve smiled, her dimples showing again.

"I dunno, half as bad is still pretty bad…" Aiden mumbled in his usual grumpy tone.

"So, what happened to your pa?" Genevieve moved to sit onto her bed. "Did someone… shoot him or something?"

Aiden let out a small chuckle. "No, nothing like them storybooks. My pa got sick." He threw his hat on the bed – something Valentina had always told Genevieve not to do. "Cholera. Killed a lot of folk… Rune's folk too." Aiden sat down on the bed beside her. "I was fifteen or so… Rune ran the ranch for me – along with Matty and Holt- Holt was Matty's brother… "

"Who?"

"Matty. The ginger fella." Genevieve smiled as she remembered the drunken Irishman. He certainly livened up the cotillion. Aiden grinned as if he was remembering something. "Y'know, we didn't have much money, and we went to bed hungry most nights, but we were free. We were a family – a rum one, but…" Aiden shrugged. "Me and my pa weren't really much of one to begin with."

It was such an alien concept. Going to bed hungry, not having money… but the strangest one of all was _freedom_. They could do whatever they wanted. They didn't have to worry about what to wear or how to be polite – they led real lives.

"So, how did you become an outlaw?"

"There was this fella, Herridge," Aiden explained. "Wanted the land, but… well, we needed it. And one night, I hear gunshots and most the horses've been shot dead… all the cattle and chickens too…"

"So…" Genevieve tried to understand it. "So, what did you have left?" Aiden looked at Genevieve, waiting for her to understand. "That's awful!" She stood up, outraged. "That's- why didn't you go to the law?"

"Who do you think killed the cattle?"

"They wouldn't do that…"

"Would the Sheriff 'round here do it if your pa asked him to?" Aiden raised an eyebrow. Genevieve frowned. Not because she was confused – she knew full well the Sheriff would do what Roy asked of him, but she had a horrific thought in her head – was her father the same as the Herridge? Had he ruined lives quite in so much? "The law ain't justice," Aiden said as he stood up. "Rune gave me my gun and told me I didn't have to be loyal to no-one but myself and my family." Aiden told her.

"That doesn't seem fair…" Genevieve frowned. "What happened- why you're all outlaws, I mean."

"Yeah, well…" Aiden shrugged. "It was a long time ago." He stood up, clearing his throat. "We've made our peace with it."

"But you're-"

"We've robbed banks and killed a lot of people," Aiden informed her. "And we ain't going to stop soon."

There was something in that… that was what Genevieve wanted. Not a life of an outlaw or the thrills of a gunfighter, but that determination – that surety in who he was, _that_ was what Genevieve wanted most. The fierce determination to stand up against the law, the government – America itself and take the justice himself.

Genevieve wrapped her hands around Aiden's neck and pressed her lips to his again. His hands were coarse and rough, brushing against her cheeks as she walked him back towards her bed.

That night, Rune didn't dream of wolves. He didn't dream his old life back west. Instead, he relived the horrors of his past. Children, torn apart by cannon-fire. Chunks of tree splintered across the faces of men under his command – boys, really. Soldiers blowing their head open with their own muskets, tomahawks cleaving skulls open. Mouths roughly torn in half at the cheeks. But it wasn't the screams that haunted Rune. It wasn't his own panicked shouts to call off the attack. It wasn't even the children crying. What terrified Rune was his steady breathing. His unshaking hands. How calm he was amidst the chaos. Like a stone, unchanged by a storm. Unbroken from the rain and lightning and wind. He just… was.

He awoke gently, rubbing his eyes; the nightmares were too common to jolt him awake. It was early in the morning. Rune checked his pocketwatch to see more clearly: 5:34am.

"Early, isn't it?"

Rune looked up to see Parker stoking the flames beneath the pot as he dropped in more ginseng leaves. "Why're you up?"

"Everyone uses this pot to cook. Only time I can really use it…" Parker looked back to the pot. "I don't sleep much, anyway."

"No, me neither…" Rune stretched as he got to his feet. "Not by choice," he groaned. "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour before Ava stopped crying," Parker said curtly, eying Rune carefully. Rune nodded, rubbing his greying beard – too thick for the heat.

"That…" Rune walked towards the mirror beside his tent and picked up his brush, playing with the crack in the handle. "That was not gentlemanly of me…" Rune murmured.

"That's how you see yourself, now?" Parker asked, stretching his back as he stood up. "A gentleman?"

"I see myself as someone who's trying to keep us _together_." Rune replied as he dipped his brush into water and then pressed it against the white powder, coating his beard with white cream.

"By hitting Ava?"

"Charlotte is a child!" Rune snapped as he picked up his razor. "She's not going to be a woman like Ava."

"What is she going to be then?" Parker raised an eyebrow. "Because it seems it's a woman like Ava or an outlaw like Alice."

"She's learning to read and write," Rune explained, "she's going to conduct herself as a lady. When we make enough money, get out of here, she'll live a decent life. Far better than any of us have had."

"So, where is it?" Parker asked. "Where is this… promised land?"

"France," Rune replied as he began to drag the razor across his beard, "Bolivia. Canada – somewhere Uncle Sam won't find us."

"Not Mexico?"

"Me, Matty, Ava, Aiden, Alice, Miss Elvira – we'll stick out like a sore thumb down there. We need to go somewhere we can blend in…"

"Like me and Near and Night's Hawk blend in here?"

"Canada is full of settlers from England and Germany and Spain – we'll simply state that we've travelled from afar and are looking to settle down."

Parker nodded. "So, when are we going to go there?"

"When we have enough money," Rune assured him. "Cattle, a house – we need enough money to buy some land, build a ranch and populate it with livestock." Rune smiled at the dream. Land of his own, a ranch free of the oppression of America. Somewhere they could live out their lives comfortably. Perhaps they could build a large house like Caliga Hall. Charlotte would be happy there – they all would be. "Trust me, Parker. We'll all live there and… and we'll have peace then."

Parker licked his lips as he looked at Rune's weathered face, slowly becoming shorn of his beard. He was older, yes, a great deal older than Parker, but… well, he wasn't sure _what_ exactly he felt for him, but it wasn't unlike everyone else in the gang. They all loved Rune – he'd turned Alice from foe to friend. He'd rescued Charlotte when she was barely a child. He'd fathered and guided Aiden for over a decade. If Rune meant that much to Parker, didn't he owe him the truth?

"Rune, I'm…" Parker stifled a cough and let out a ragged sigh. "I'm dying." It was strange saying the words – as if they didn't fit quite well within his mouth. "Have been for a while, but… haven't really committed to it, I suppose."

Rune's brow creased as he tried to understand this. So recently had he gained a daughter, watched his son grow and began to see the end of his journey – a home for all of them, shunned everywhere else. And now it was beginning to slip away with this news. "Parker…"

"Ah, don't do that…" Parker waved a hand. "No time for that."

"Well… can we help you?" Rune asked, setting down his razor and taking a step towards Parker.

"My ma had it." Parker shook his head. "She died when I was little and… well, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree." Parker looked up at Rune. "Either I'll live or I'll die but… I've not heard of anyone living."

Rune placed a hand around the nape of Parker's neck, staring into his sharp and tired eyes. Pale like moonlight reflected on the Flat Iron Lake. In that moment, Rune felt something come over him. As though his thoughts had vanished like smoke from a fire – it was a feeling he'd only felt with his wife or with Holt. He leant forwards and brushed his lips against Parker's, feeling sparks of lightning crackle through his lips as all the air was swept from his lungs.

God help them both.

**Yup. So, the next chapter should be up after the weekend, but I'll work hard today to see if I can upload it tomorrow. Don't forget to drop a review.**

**R.**

**p.s. to someone who keeps asking when my Game of Thrones story will be continued: It'll come out when it's ready. I'm still refining the storyline because it's going to be the final instalment and I want it to be the best it can possibly be. Don't you worry.**


	9. Where Loyalty Lies

**So, there was going to be some action in this, but I decided against it because there can always be too much of it. Anyway, most of you said you like seeing gang dynamics – there'll be a bunch more of that in the next chapter.**

**So, enjo. **

_4__th__ June, 1902_

_Caliga Hall, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Aiden blinked and looked around the room as he rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't slept that well in years – probably because he hadn't slept in a bed since he'd left the West. The room was preposterously large – full of small photos and flowers, jewellery scattered across her dressing table.

Aiden ruffled his hair and sat up, looking to his left to see Genevieve still asleep. Her dark hair was strewn across the pillows, her pale skin kissed by sunlight as her legs slipped out from beneath the white sheets. He stretched a hand out to touch her hip, all delicate like china. His hand stopped inches from her as he saw his own hand. Scarred and callous, one of his nails cracked and small scabs painted across his fingers. Nothing like her hands. Not at all.

The door knocked and Aiden heard a southern drawl. "Miss Genevieve? Master Roy is asking when you'll be joining him for breakfast."

Genevieve shot up as the door knocked once again. Her deep blue eyes fixed on Aiden for a moment before looking back to the door. "A… just a moment!" She called before grabbing Aiden and moving him out of the bed, pointing at the windows. "Out of the window," she whispered to him.

Aiden grabbed his brown pants and tugged them on, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders and sweeping up his shirt. Genevieve pulled on her nightdress and looked over to see Aiden falling over, trying to pull on his boots.

"Miss Genevieve?" The servant called again.

"One moment!" Genevieve said, trying to stifle her laugh as she saw Aiden roll upright, grabbing his gunbelt and buckling it around his waist. Aiden opened the windows and looked back to her with something of a small smile. He looked nice when he smiled.

Genevieve quickly moved across the room, losing her hand in his dark hair and kissing him. "I'll see you soon."

Aiden licked his lips, narrowing his eyes before smiling again. "Find me in town. In the evening."

Genevieve looked back to the door and then gave Aiden a nod before dashing across the room. She glanced back to see Aiden tucking his vest and shirt over his shoulders and clambering out of the window. She was about to open the door when she looked to the bed and saw Aiden's dark brown hat still there. She grabbed it and threw it out of the window before opening the door, a large smile on her face, showing her dimples.

* * *

Alice sat on the steps outside the large estate, picking up the small muddy pebbles and tossing them at Matty, who turned around to frown at her.

"What?" Alice shrugged and picked up another pebble, hitting Matty in the leg with it. "Stop it!" Alice grinned and picked up another pebble, throwing it at him.

Rune walked over to her, placing his cigar in his mouth and grabbing the pebbles collected by her leg and throwing them back into the mud. "Behave yourself or I'll send you back to camp."

"At least I won't be quite so bored…" Alice said as she leant back, pulling her hat down to cover her dark eyes as she let out a sigh. "When's moody-bones getting here?"

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be waiting here…" Rune replied as he stroked his newly shaved jaw.

"I preferred that muzzle on your face, daddy…" Alice grinned.

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it, Alice MacKenzie."

"I thought yous didn't like beards?" Matty asked.

"No… just not yours." Alice smirked at Matty, who frowned, stroking the soft ginger stubble on his chin.

Around the side of the large building came Aiden, looking somewhat dishevelled as he began to fix his hat on his head.

"Oh, there you are!" Rune muttered as he waved over the gang to follow him.

"Here I am," Aiden said as he began to button up his green vest.

"C'mon, now we can _finally_ go."

"Finally," Matty agreed, flashing Aiden a grin. "Where were yous last night?"

"Out."

"Out where?" Aiden shrugged in response. "Don't…" Matty mimicked Aiden's shrug. "At me."

"We'll talk about that later," Rune growled.

"You look tired, McKneil. Up late, were you?"

"What's wrong?" Aiden asked Rune and glanced back to Alice, who dawdled behind them as they walked towards the stables.

"She said you look tired, McKneil!" Matty chortled.

"And you look like shit, only you don't see me pointing it out."

"You're pointing it out right now-"

"Yeah, but you look like shit _every_ day."

"He's just tired, Matty," Alice said soothingly, "he's throwing a tantrum like a little baby."

"Oh, shut the hell up, woman…" Aiden groaned.

"Didn't I say we'll talk about it later?" Rune snapped at them both as he made his way towards his horse, Copper. "We've got a job."

"What job?"

"We have been given the luxurious job of relieving the Brotherhood of Southern Cronies of their moonshine."  
Aiden nodded. "Sounds simple enough…"

"So, let's go." Rune mounted Copper and slapped his neck as Aiden mounted Ryder, stroking down his mane gently. "We've been hanging 'round here a bit too long… a trio of dusty folk looking all conspicuous-like."

"What're you on about?" Aiden asked as Ryder cantered alongside Copper.

"The _Davenports_ is what I'm on about."

Aiden scoffed. "What, you fixing to rob them now?"

"Do you want us to be bowing and scraping to them forever, McKneil?" Alice asked mockingly.

"Well said, Alice," Rune called back to her.

"So… so, what, we're going to betray them?"

"Wha- _betray_ them? No, nothing quite so base as that. No, we're simply… outsmarting them."  
"What's the difference?"

"Oh, Jaysus, McKneil," Matty groaned, "what's got into you?"

"We're robbing those that have too much," Rune explained to Aiden, "same as always."

"So, what's different – I thought we working for them and all of a sudden…" Aiden's face crumpled up as he tried to figure out what exactly had changed…

"I'll explain it to you after we rob the Brotherhood of their liquor."

"So, we picking up Anna on the way?" Aiden asked Rune, who frowned.

"Why would we do that?"

"Well, I figured you recruited her so she could help take down the Brotherhood-"

"Recruited? No. No, she _chose_ to join us, Aiden, I ain't the army. I ain't _recruiting_…"

"Well, whatever you call it…" Aiden murmured.

"I need calmness," Rune continued. "Bringing her along will only turn a quiet robbery into a massacre, and who knows who'll die in her- her quest for vengeance." Rune turned back to Alice and Matty. "And do we seek revenge?"

"No, daddy."

"Yeah, course not, Rune."

"So, that whole Herridge business…" Aiden looked to Rune. "That wasn't 'bout revenge?"

"Oh," Rune shook his head, frustrated by his protégé's thick-headedness. "That was different, Aiden."

"Didn't feel too different…" Aiden grumbled.

"Oh, don't act so childish, Aiden, it's beneath you."

"Sure, I'll just leave that to Alice."

"You learning to make jokes now, moody-bones?" Alice asked cheerfully. "What else can you do, play dead?"

"You ain't impressing no-one-"

Rune pulled on the reins of his horse and turned around to face the three outlaws. "That's enough out of you two!" He barked at them. "I am goddamn sick of your constant bickering! I am _long_-_tired_ of it!" Rune took a breath to calm himself down as he turned to look at Aiden. "What's wrong, son?" He asked, his voice softening. "Why are you so troubled by this?"

"It's just…" Aiden's hazel eyes flickered to Alice. He wouldn't dare say anything in front of her. "It's just that you said we were lying low, that was the plan. Now you're talking about robbing the Davenports, and I just don't know what's changed…"

"Are you loyal to the Davenports?" Rune asked him.

"What?" Aiden frowned. "No, of course not-"

"Who _are_ you loyal to?" Rune asked, his face hard, eyes boring into Aiden's.

Aiden took a breath. Rune was right – he didn't need to understand everything, he just needed to trust. After all they'd been through, Rune had earned his trust, more than anyone else in the world. "You, Rune," Aiden said with a sigh.

"Then fall in line." Rune faced Copper forwards again. "C'mon!"

* * *

Sam wiped the sweat from his brow as he set down the final crate of eggs. It wasn't hard work, but it took time – especially when it came to eggs. Sam was only fourteen, yet to become a man, but Old Man Mercer assured him that the more he carried crates, the lighter they would seem. He just wanted Mercer to take him to the Parlour House again. He'd seen the Davenport girl, Paradise, there and had ever since been in awe of her. Though she looked at him like something on the sole of her shoe… Mercer assured Sam that he'd find a girl when he was a bit older.

Sam looked onto the horizon and saw two riders. An older man, around Mercer's age, and a younger, a handful of years old than Sam. He recognized the young man – Avery Davenport. Boasted to be the quickdraw of Rhodes, able to shoot a hole in a man's hat before he drew breath, let alone his revolver.

The older man dismounted his horse and rubbed his dark brown moustache as he set his light brown eyes on Sam. "You work for Mercer?" He asked.

"What you want with him?" Sam asked.

"Tell him the Davenports are here," the man replied as he produced a flask of whiskey, taking a sip.

Sam gulped. He lived in Scarlett Meadows, which meant he knew who the Davenports were and what they were capable of. He turned around and walked into the house, finding Mercer snoring loudly at the table.

"Mercer," Sam said quietly, "Mercer!"

"Boy," Mercer grumbled as he awoke, "you done with chores yet?"  
"There's two men outside."

"Cattle rustlers?" Mercer asked as he rose to his feet slowly, picking up his gunbelt from the back of the chair.

"No, no, sir."

"Then leave me the hell alone and let me sleep…" Mercer Ibegan to drop back into his chair.

"It's the Davenports, sir."

Mercer's eyes widened as he quickly made his way to the door, opening it to see the two men outside. "Mr. Davenport, how good to see- boy, fix them both a drink- the good stuff!"

"I appreciate the hospitality, sir," the older man said as he walked up the steps, "but we don't plan on staying here long."

"N… no?" Mercer asked, fastening his gunbelt tighter. "Ambrose- Mr. Davenport…"

"My brother loaned y'all a considerable sum of money," Ambrose said as he climbed up the stairs. "Now, being a considerable sum, we ain't likely to… break your bones or whatnot." Ambrose chuckled. "We're simply inquiring as to whether you will be paying the full sum and paying in instalments."

"I…" Mercer licked his lips. "See, the boy's still learning, so… so we ain't able to make many cattle runs… I need to hire more hands-"

"A first instalment, then?" Ambrose asked as he looked around the ranch.

"I…" Mercer nodded. "Yes, of course."  
"Fifty dollars," Ambrose stretched his shoulders. "Is this an agreeable amount?"

"Of course, Mr. Davenport."

"Good. Bring it to us in town on Monday." Ambrose looked to Sam and tipped his hat. "Sir." And with that, Ambrose and his gunfighter son, Avery, mounted their horses and rode away.

"Sir," Sam said to the old man, "fifty dollars? By Monday?"

"I know…" Mercer murmured as he watched the departing Davenports.

"Why didn't you ask if we could pay them less?"

"It may have sounded like a question, but he wasn't asking." Mercer groaned as he pulled his suspenders up over his shoulders. "C'mon, boy, we best see if we can sell what we have in town." Mercer turned back to Sam, who was biting his lip. "Don't fret boy. Worst comes, I can always sell you…" He grinned.

* * *

At Shady Belle, Rune, Aiden, Alice and Matty crouched down in the trees as Rune looked through his binoculars, examining the still that was set up in front of the old, abandoned plantation house.

"A fair few of them…" Rune murmured as he passed the binoculars to Aiden. "What you think?"

Aiden peered through the binoculars to examine the pack of dogs that tore at a boar's carcass as a thin, gangly man shouted incoherently at them. "I don't much like the look of them dogs…" Aiden murmured.

"Thought you'd get on well with them." Alice said quietly as Aiden let out a tired breath and passed the binoculars to Matty. There was a small pause. "Because you're a bitch."

"I get it," Aiden snapped.

Alice took the binoculars from Matty and watched. "There's a lot of men… we got enough bullets?"

"We can't hardly take them all on ourselves." Aiden looked over to Rune. "How you wanna play this?"  
Rune flicked his tongue across his teeth, rubbing his chin as he took the binoculars back. "Aiden's right, we march in there looking for a fight, we'll lose."

"Ye of little faith…" Matty murmured.

"Could wait until nightfall…" Aiden suggested. "Wait until they're all asleep?"

"Might be found before then…" Rune muttered. He looked through the binoculars again to see two men on horses hanging around by the door, chatting idly. "Now where are you off to?" He said quietly to himself.

"What you looking at?"

"Patrol, maybe…" Rune lowered the binoculars and looked around to spy a wagon being led around the house. "Or maybe a guard…" He looked through the binoculars again and saw two men leave the house, one of them climbing aboard the wagon and leaning back to produce a reddish jug before taking a swig from it. "And there's our shine." Rune grinned to himself and looked to his gang. "Ye of little faith…"

"Ey, I said that first!" Matty hissed.

"So, we rob the wagon?" Aiden asked Rune.

"Yes… but they can always make more…" Rune scanned the area through his binoculars again to make out where they were keeping the distillery – nowhere he could see. Perhaps it was inside… "we'll have to come back with more people. Blow up the distillery."

"Why?" Aiden asked.

"It's how they make money. And I don't like another gang hanging around with too much money…" Rune put away his binoculars. "Besides, I'd wager they're keeping the money they're making from the shine in there." He glanced to Aiden, whose doubts were still obvious. "The quicker we make money, the sooner we can get out of here."

Aiden sighed, closing his eyes gently and nodding. "Alright, so how do we do this?"

"Get on horseback, follow from afar…" Rune took his bandana and tied it around his neck. "Soon as they're away from camp and outside of a town, we jump them. Matty," Rune pointed to the ginger Irishman, "you're going to drive it. I'll ride shotgun. Miss MacKenzie, you and Mr. McKneil escort us to the old Braithwaite Manor."

"Not Caliga Hall?"

"I don't think the great and magnificent Davenports would appreciate their ill-gotten gains outside their front door."

"And we's takin' a couple of jugs, right, Rune?"

Rune rolled his eyes. "Yes, you Irish bastard, we'll take enough to sate our tongues for tonight… we'll call that a finder's fee."

"Grand," Matty chuckled to himself.

"Okay, gang, let's go…"

Alice and Matty mounted up first, but Aiden grabbed Rune's arm and held him back for a moment before they mounted up to follow.

"What?" Rune asked.

"Well…" Aiden cleared his throat, "y'know how we're… well, today's the fourth, so…"

"Yes, and we'll have enough moonshine-"

"It ain't about that…" Aiden rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "I want to bring someone. From… well, from outside."

"This the lovely lady you were so taken with last night?" Aiden nodded. "Who?"  
"It's…" Aiden licked his lips. If Rune wanted to rob the Davenports, how would he feel about Aiden inviting one into their camp?

"C'mon, son, don't be shy."

"It's Genevieve Davenport."

There was a silence as Rune looked at Aiden. It was… strange. There was some alarm to him – he loved Aiden as a son. Out of all the people in the gang, that young man meant the most to him – perhaps even more than Young Charlotte. Aiden had always been fiercely loyal, but now, Rune understood his doubts. His loyalty was starting to fracture – he was starting to place his loyalty in the hands of a woman. A woman who hadn't bled for him like Rune had. Who hadn't lost as much as they had. If he wasn't careful, this girl could be Aiden's ruin.

"I'm happy for you, son," Rune smiled, slapping Aiden on the shoulder. "And you're happy with her?"

"I think so…" Aiden murmured. "Yeah," he said, a little more sure of himself.

Rune licked his lips in thought. "Well…" he said quietly. "Maybe we can introduce a little bit of class into the gang." He grinned. "That is what you're asking, isn't it? If she can run with us?"

"I…" Aiden frowned in thought – he did want that. Or, rather, a part of him wanted it. But she wasn't an outlaw. In truth, Aiden wanted that more than anything – that was the goal. To reach a place where they wouldn't be outlaws anymore. But taking Genevieve into that life, away from her family… maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. "I don't know, Rune."

Rune nodded. "Bring her along. And if you want her to come with us… well, just remember that the _gang_ comes first. The family – that's where loyalty lies, son."

Aiden nodded. "I know, Rune."

Rune smiled and bowed his head. "In that case, you have my blessing. And my permission."

**That's it for today. The next chapter will be up sometime in the week and I'll see y'all then. Keep those reviews coming in – we're almost at the halfway point! Let me know if you think the story arc of this instalment is coming through if you think it's a little bit scattered – I have a habit of going off on tangents, but I'm trying to change that.**

**R. **


	10. The Day of Independence

**I know, ****_another_**** update? Well, I've had some free time on my hands and just want to push through with this because it's been dragging a bit. So, let me know what you think!**

_4__th__ June, 1902_

_Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Fireworks whizzed and popped, banging and cracking across the night sky in a beautiful array of spectacle and wonder. Young Charlotte was in awe of it – she'd always loved fireworks, from the first time she'd seen them. She jumped up and down, pulling on Paloma's hand.

"_Abuela_, _abuela_, look – fireworks!"

"I know, _niño, _I know…" Paloma said in her frail voice. She was sixty-four – she knew she wasn't long for the world. But she hoped she'd be around long enough to see her little Charlie become a woman. Rune may have felt Charlotte was his daughter, and Ava may have been Charlotte's favourite, but Paloma was her _abuela_. She'd cared for the girl as she'd cared for Aiden in his childhood. When he was friends with her own blood…

The campfire crackled as Near's calloused fingers plucked on the strings of his guitar, playing a song for them all to sing along to. Matty, Luca and Rune all loudly sang the song, with Ellie taking a swig of the jug of moonshine, singing along.

_"Abuela, _what is a ring-dang-doo?" Charlotte asked loudly. Paloma shook her head and pointed at the fireworks as the others sang louder. Alice sauntered over with Lana, sharing a cigarette and talking about something Charlotte couldn't quite hear. "Uncle Luca," Charlotte said loudly as she walked over to pull on Luca's blue-striped white shirt, "can we play whist again?"

Luca let out a groan as he set down his bottle of whiskey. "Sorry, gentlemen, seems I've a prior engagement." He stood up and placed a hand on Charlotte's shoulder, walking her over to the table. "Father!" Luca called across to the small tent where Father Elijah discussed his Bible with Parker. "Care to join us?"

Father Elijah turned to Parker and clapped him on the shoulder before rising to his feet and walking over. "It's only fair I make sure you don't rob young Miss Charlotte."

"As if any of us would rob…" Luca said, winking to Charlotte as he sat down at the table and picked up the deck of cards.

Rune walked away from the campfire, smiling as he saw Charlotte giggle while looking at her cards. She couldn't play like Luca, but she always won. Though Luca would feign shock and horror at this, Rune would catch a small smirk from the corner of Luca's mouth.

Approaching Parker, Rune sat down, offering him a bottle of whiskey, which Parker waved away. "Someone's going to step in the fire," Parker explained, "or slip on a game of five-finger-fillet or something… I need my head clear."

"It's the Day of Independence," Rune argued, "if there's ever a time to drink…" Parker looked at the bottle, then to Rune and smiled, taking the bottle and having a swig. "That's us, Parker…" Rune smiled to himself. "More independent than any other in this bastard land…" Parker remained silent and licked his lips. It made Rune's mind race back to their kiss. "Parker, you're…" he took a breath; Rune was good at talking, but Parker had a habit of stripping those words from him. "I'm trying to say that you're important. You mean a lot to me- a hell of a lot." Parker nodded, hearing his words. "You don't have to say anything, I just… I just wanted to tell you that." He sighed. "I understand if you need time."

"Time…" Parker said quietly with a huff. "Time's the one thing you never have enough of…" He looked up to meet Rune's grey-blue eyes. "It may not be the best thing but… you matter a lot to me too. For whatever that's worth." Parker's copper hand slowly moved to wrap around Rune's. Rune's eyes quickly flickered to the gang, checking to see that none of them noticed. They didn't – this was because they were all shouting and cheering at a new arrival.

* * *

Genevieve had ridden around in the area before, but she hadn't seen anything quite like this. A large group of tents all corralled together. An assortment of red and green and blue, all patchwork and tattered. A campfire crackled and on the logs around it were a group of men and women. Black, white, Latin and even a Native! Genevieve felt her body stiffen – maybe her father was right, and they'd all try to kill her for who she was.

"It's okay," Aiden told her, sensing her worry, "they're all good people…" Aiden's hazel eyes drifted over a red-haired woman that sucked on a cigarette, her lips curling into a wicked smile upon seeing Genevieve. "Most of them, anyway…"

"Ey, McKneil!" The ginger Irishman shouted as he careened over to them. "Who's this jammy little lass?"

"Miss Genevieve Davenport," Genevieve introduced herself, doing a small curtsy. The Irishman shared a laugh with the rest of the camp.

"Mr. Matty Donnelly," he said, sweeping into a low bow before falling over.

"Ignore him," Aiden murmured as he led Genevieve closer to the campfire. An old black man with a shaved head rose to his feet, eying Genevieve curiously. "Near, this is Genevieve," Aiden introduced her. "Genevieve, this is Near."

"That's a peculiar name."

"I'm a peculiar fella…" Near looked to Aiden. "Bringing her home to meet the parents, are ya?"

"Something like that…" Aiden nodded. "Where's Rune?"

"Right here, son!" Called Rune as he walked forwards, Parker by his side as he crossed his arms, looking Genevieve up and down. "Nice to see you again, Miss Davenport."

Genevieve glanced to Aiden then back to Rune. "You as well, Mr. Brody. Thank you for… having me here."

Rune's grey-blue eyes narrowed as he tried to read her face. She wasn't a spy, was she? Well, why would Roy Davenport send his own daughter in as a spy… or maybe-

"Ava," came the long, drawn-out voice of a young blonde girl as she ran across camp, hugging Rune's leg. She was young – no older than eight or nine. And the big smile on her face, the way she hugged Rune… "Where's Auntie Ava?"

"I don't…" Rune looked around to see the dark-haired Anna standing nearby, constructing arrows. "Miss Anna, why don't you help Charlie find Ava?" Anna nodded, putting an arm around Charlotte and glancing to Genevieve before walking away to one of the tents with her. "Gang," Rune said loudly, "make room at the fire for Miss Davenport."

Near grabbed the wolf pelt he sat on and moved it to the empty space beside Ellie and Night's Hawk. Genevieve glanced to Aiden, who nodded, and she moved across to sit down with them, being handed the jug of moonshine by Ellie.

"She's brave," Rune murmured to Aiden, "risking life and limb in this den of low-lives."

"No worse than Rhodes…" Aiden replied with a chuckle.

* * *

"So, you're a _lady_," the ginger woman said, her dark eyes flickering over Genevieve's face.

"I'm… I suppose," Genevieve nodded.

"Oh, you'll like Ava," the woman said again with a smile, "she's a _lady_ too."

"Alice…" Near said quietly.

"Oh, don't come over all Uncle Tom, now, Near!" Alice rolled her eyes.

"Watch ya tongue, girl." Near looked to her. "Else I'll pull it clean out ya head."

Alice sneered at him, but Near looked to Genevieve, smiling warmly. "Y'are close with our Aiden, then, are ya?" Genevieve nodded. "Good. Poor boy's always brooding – be a nice change to have him smiling for once."

The Native American chuckled beside Genevieve. "You know, he mostly grunted at me when I first met him."

Near chuckled. "That's our boy…" He gestured to the teenager. "That's Night's Hawk, of the Wapiti tribe."

"The Wapiti?" Genevieve looked to Night's Hawk. "Aren't you meant to be all North?"

"Aren't you all meant to be across the ocean?"

Near laughed loudly. "Best hunter I've come across, that one." He looked across to the woman by Genevieve's side. "That's Ellie Colt. Wouldn't sit too close to her – sticky fingers."

Ellie scoffed. "Please…"

"Not a bad shot neither, though." Near pointed at her. "Come a long way, haven't ya?"

"Still a ways to go…" Ellie said with a small sigh.

"Ah, come on now…" Near playfully shoved her and then looked across to the young Mexican beauty that sat across from Genevieve, next to Alice. "Care to introduce yourself, Lana?"

Lana's brown eyes drifted across Genevieve for a moment before she stood up and walked away towards the table, wrapping an arm around Luca's shoulder and whispering intimately in his ear, eyes fixed on Genevieve.

"Don't worry about her," Near murmured to Genevieve.

"Yeah, she's just a bit territorial…" Alice grinned. "Think she's still put out over Aiden tiring of her cunt…"

Genevieve's jaw stiffened as she looked over to the woman. A revolver lay in her holster, her hair was wild and untamed… is that what Aiden wanted her to be?

"I said that's enough, Alice." Near glared at her.

"Just telling our honoured _lady_ what she needs to know."

"Next time you go for a piss, I hope a snake finds a new home in you." Near said to her. Alice blinked, her face slightly cringing at the thought. "Come on, Genevieve, let's go play cards with Charlie."

* * *

Hours later, Rune sat outside his tent, smoking his pipe and watching Genevieve. A Davenport. In _his_ camp. He still wasn't sure what to make of it… his main concern was Aiden being glued to her side. If someone attacked the camp right now, would he even be ready to fight?

Aiden was a warrior – _Rune's_ warrior. Being with Genevieve seemed to soften him, but Rune needed Aiden strong. Just like Rune needed to be strong, like Near did and Lana and Matty – the time of peace would come later.

The longer they stayed in Rhodes, the softer Aiden would become, and if people saw Rune's son growing weak, they'd follow suit. Rune knew that they needed to move quickly – they'd need to leave Rhodes soon.

"Lana," Rune called over the woman who'd been glaring at Genevieve the entire night.

"Rune?"

"You've got a job. Tonight." He said softly, pulling her by the shoulder away from the campfire. "You're to take Alice and Ellie with you."

"What job?"

"I want you to take some dynamite and break into the bank tonight. Fireworks should help mask the sound, and the law will all be drunk…" Rune explained. "Break into the bank and steal the Davenport's money. All of it."

"I thought we working for them. Why are-"

"Did I say you could ask a question?" Rune frowned.

Lana opened her mouth and quickly closed it again before nodding and walking towards Alice, whispering in her ear and approaching Ellie.

"What're ya doing, Rune?" Came the slick southern accent of Luca, who leant against the wagon behind the tent. Rune turned around to face him, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

"This was always the plan, wasn't it? Rob the Davenports… we all voted, Luca."

"I thought we were working _with_ them-"

"We don't work for anyone but ourselves! On today of all days, you should understand that."

"I am trying…" Luca murmured as he walked forwards, looking at the gang's cheer. "This better not be no damn revenge-"

"When have I ever sought revenge, Luca? What have I done to deserve such ire?" Rune scoffed. "First Aiden, now you…"

"Maybe you should listen to us."

"And maybe you should trust me more," Rune snapped. "I have given everything for this gang, and I would gladly give my life. All I ask is that you trust that I act in our best interests."

Luca looked at Rune for a moment before walking away. He'd known Rune a long time and it was true, he'd never acted against them before. But Luca knew people and Rune… Rune was changing. Not for the worst, certainly not – Rune was his brother. But in times of change, bad things could happen, and Luca was still waiting for that.

Luca approached Lana as she saddled up her horse. "Be careful, will ya?" He asked her. "It'd… dynamite's not-"

Lana grabbed Luca's scarlet cravat and pulled him in for a deep kiss before pulling away to look at him. "We'll be fine. Just… see if you can get _her_ out of here…" Lana glanced to Genevieve.

"Problem?" Luca sighed. "If this is about Aiden-"

"I don't like her, so it _must_ be because he's shaking sheets with her?" Lana raised an eyebrow. "She's a precious little princess who thinks she's better than us all because her _padre_ owns land?"

Luca nodded. That was it, of course. He'd almost forgotten who Lana was before she fell in with the gang. She was just like Genevieve. It must've been a painful reminder of what she'd not just lost, but _chosen_ to walk away from.

"Be careful," Luca said quietly to her.

* * *

Aiden and Genevieve were returning from the woods. There was no privacy in the camp, so they'd escaped to find some solitude. She had twigs in her hair and felt her petticoat sticking to her thighs. They lay beneath a tree, swapping kisses and losing their hands in each other's bodies as her dress was tugged down to her waist and Aiden's shirt unbuttoned.

"This is how you live?" She asked, breathlessly as her chest rose and fell, her sweated hands sweeping across the dry grass, prickling her palms. "Drinking and dancing every night under the stars?"

"The dancing is new…" Aiden murmured. They both chuckled. "No, it ain't much but… it's good enough for us."

"You're all just so… real," Genevieve said with a smile as she rested her head on Aiden's bare chest, feeling his dark hair bristle against her cheek.

"Yeah, that's how Rune sees it. Like… folk who have to pay for food and taxes and jewellery… they ain't real."

"People like me, you mean?" Genevieve felt Aiden's chest freeze for a moment. "I don't know if he likes me…" she murmured.

"Of course he does," Aiden said instantly. "He's even said you can come with us when we leave – gave me his blessing and permission."

Genevieve frowned and sat up, looking Aiden in the face. "You asked him if I could come with you?"

"Well… yeah." Aiden sat up. "Of course I did."

"Why would I want to leave with you?" Genevieve frowned. She wasn't his property – she had a life in Rhodes.

"Do you need me to say it?" He gestured to them. "This is the most I've seen you smile…"

"You haven't seen me that much," she insisted.

"No, but you ain't like those folk – they're all talk and fancy clothing. A bunch of fools."

"Those 'fools' are my family. Maybe you don't approve of us, but we don't approve of your choice of killing and robbing-"

"Choice?" Aiden sat up. "When did I ever have a choice?"

Genevieve shook her head and rose to her feet, pulling her clothes back over her pale breasts. "You're too smart to be saying silly things like that…"

"We're leaving America," Aiden explained, standing up and trying to hold her arm, only Genevieve shrugged his hands off. "As soon as we have enough money, we're gone. We'll live a normal life- free from-"

"When?" Genevieve turned around to face him. "When will you have enough?"

"I… soon. Real soon, I swear-"

"You can have a normal life here! My father will see the law will never find you…"

"Here?" Aiden scoffed. "What, when Lucien Durand leaves the house, you can send a smoke signal and I'll sneak in the back again?"

"You didn't seem to mind last time."

"Gen, we can have a good life together. You'll be free of marrying some fool you don't like, I'll be free from running – just… we just need to make some money, and then we can go anywhere."

"With that gang? Those women who hate me for being a lady – saying it like it's some cuss."

Aiden licked his lips. "This'll all be over real soon, I swear. We make some money and we can leave." Aiden turned her around to face him. "I promise, that's what we're striving for-"

"I'd like you to take me back home please."

Aiden let out a long breath and nodded, swallowing hard. "Sure…"

* * *

An explosion shook the building, fragmenting brick and mortar into piles rubble. A heavy clang was heard as several safes were blown open. And jumping through the hole in the wall were two women. One, a Mexican, with a red bandana pulled up to her nose. The other, a pale red-head, with a black bandana wrapped around her face.

"C'mon, girls, let's get our pay!" The red-haired woman said as she wrenched open the broken safe door and began to take out fistfuls of dollars, stuffing them into the saddlebags slung over her shoulders.

"How do we know which is the Davenports'?" The woman keeping watch asked, a hand on her revolver as she looked up and down to see if anyone was coming.

"Just take it all!" The red-haired girl replied as she continued to fill the saddlebags. "Lana, here!" She tossed a stick of dynamite to the Mexican woman.

Lana stuffed the dynamite behind the handle of a large safe and moved back with her comrade, taking cover outside of the bank. Lana peered around and cocked back the hammer of her revolver. The third woman quickly moved forwards, placing a hand on the gun and pointing to the fireworks. Lana nodded and waited with bated breath until a crimson streak shot up into the sky. The second it exploded into an emerald explosion, Lana shot at the dynamite, blowing up several safes.

The women rubbed their heads and climbed inside again, opening the doors and filling their saddlebags.

"Any more?"

"Some of the damn money got burnt…" The ginger woman growled, throwing the remains on the floor.

The third woman hissed as a man in an evening suit walked around to investigate the noise. His eyes narrowed, his hooked nose twitching as he smelt the gunpowder. He looked over to see a woman with a bandana tied around her face and his mouth fell open.

"Robbery!" The man cried. "They're robbing the bank-"

The woman aimed her revolver and fired at the man, dropping him onto the ground. He grabbed his shoulder in pain as he tried to rise to his feet. The other two women exited the bank to see him floundering and crying.

"Nice shot, Colt," the ginger woman said as she walked towards the man, "we'll make an outlaw outta you yet."

"Alice, we have to go!"

Alice casually waved a hand as she approached the man, holstering her gun and pulling out a knife as she turned the man over with her foot. "That hurt?"

"Please," the man moaned, "please, I have money…"

"So do I. Bags of it."

The man whimpered as Alice gripped her knife firmly, straddling the man and stroking the tip of the blade beneath his chin.

"I have a son…"

Alice pulled down her bandana and leant forwards, kissing the man deeply as she slowly pushes the knife into his mouth. She felt the salt in his blood coat her mouth as the man made muffled groans and fell motionless.

Alice stood up and wiped her mouth, turning back to the other women, who stared at her. "What did you do?" Colt asked.

"Tied up a loose end," Alice replied as she walked back to them, approaching the horses. "Next time, aim for the head," she said to Colt, giving her a slap on the shoulder.

**Oooh… yeah, since this story is rated 'M', I figured let's go for it. So, I hope you all enjoyed (or… well, found this chapter interesting) and I'll see you all after the weekend. Bear in mind that we are OFFICIALLY halfway through the story.**


	11. Those That Cross the Davenports

**Nice to see most of you loved how I'm making the most of this 'M' rating. I can't really see myself writing more explicitly, but I feel like some things need to be shown. This story isn't purely about bank robberies and shooting people, it's showing a type of life – love, death and everything in between. Not that anyone complained, it's just that I want you all to know why I write what I write. Anyhoo, on with the chapter.**

_10__th__ June, 1902_

_Scarlett Meadows, LE_

Luca's head was aching from the night before – though Independence Day had been almost a week before, Matty didn't see why the drinking should stop; in his eyes, he saw the Americans as doing what the Fenians never could. If he couldn't celebrate independence from the British back in Ireland, he could surely do it in America.

To his surprise, Matty was alive and awake – though he didn't look it. His eyelids kept drooping down and he'd catch himself before he fell off of his grey thoroughbred, Belle. She was a tired old horse – on her way out. She was only fourteen or so, but the life they led was hard on horses. Matty chose to ignore this however – Luca had known him a long time, and knew that he wasn't one to acknowledge his feelings, let alone handle them.

"You're awake," Luca said, clearing his raw throat.

"Aye, barely…" Matty groaned.

"Where're you off to?"

"_Monsieur_ and I are off to Saint Denis," Ava said as she approached her red Arabian, Rouge.

"Saint Denis?" Luca frowned as he took the tin cup of coffee from Ava – Abuela's coffee was the best cure for a post-libation ache. "What are y'all up to?"

"Ava's got a job and needs a proper charmer for it," Matty mumbled with a dazed smile. Even in his state, he still found a way to smile.

"I need a face no-one knows," Ava explained to Luca.

"Ah…"

"A _handsome_ face," Matty 'corrected' Ava. She rolled her eyes and mounted her horse.

"_Monsieur_," she dipped her head to Luca.

"_Signora_," Luca replied, holding her hand and speaking quiet enough for Matty to not hear. "He acts cock of the walk but… be careful, will you? Look after him?"

"Of course, _Monsieur_," Ava said quietly. Luca smiled, squeezing her head and taking a step back. Ava glanced up across camp to see Charlotte helping Abuela with the coffee. "_Au revoir, ma vie_," Ava called across to her, smiling.

Charlotte made all of the gang smile – apart from Alice, maybe, but he was happy to see Ava hadn't shied away from her after Rune's… after what Rune did. It was the pressure, that was all. Luca was sure.

Luca watched two of his closest friends ride away before fitting his black bowler hat on his head and walking towards the campfire where Father Elijah and Night's Hawk sat.

"…But if you allow the Lord and Saviour into your soul, you _can_ find redemption!" Elijah preached to Night's Hawk. "He's the one true God, and-"

"How do you know he's the one true God?"

"Because I know it in my heart!" Elijah insisted. "All of us know when we do good or bad. And that is God _inside_ you, _telling_ you so!"

Night's Hawk turned to Luca. "You believe this, also?"

"I suppose…" Luca shrugged. "I just don't yammer on about it…"

Night's Hawk licked his lips. "So, if I believe in your God, I'll go to…?"

"Heaven, Night's Hawk. Only if you are baptised and believe in the one true God, otherwise you'll find yourself shunned from his embrace."

Night's Hawk rubbed his lips. "My parents didn't believe in this God," he said quietly. "They were good people. And you'd say they're in your Hell?"

Elijah bit his lip in thought. "I'm not… The Lord-"

"Don't listen to him, kid," Luca grunted as he sat down. "He's been doing all this since we first met him."

"And I shan't stop soon," Elijah responded as Charlotte walked over, sitting on his lap. "Young Charlotte believes in the one true God."

"Children believe in all sorts of things," Night's Hawk pointed out.

Luca guffawed and slapped Night's Hawk on the shoulder. "That's right, you tell him, kid."

"Luca!" Rune barked as he exited his tent, setting his black hat on his head.

"Yeah?" Luca winced, covering his ear. Rune walked across, handing Luca a letter. "My tent's across from yours, you coulda just talked…"

"Very funny," Rune grunted, sitting down on one of the logs. "It's from the Davenports."

"What's it say?"

"Why don't you _read_ it and find out?"

Luca widened his eyes and began to flit his eyes across the scrawled words.

_Mr. Brody,_

_ I implore you to visit me at Caliga Hall post-haste. An incident has occurred and I require your assistance in recovering what has been taken. Bring as many men as you wish and make sure you are all armed – I have instructed my men to allow you to carry firearms on my property._

_This is a matter for brutish behaviour, thus I advise you to bring those best suited to violence. Though, once again, I shall not tolerate the presence of Negroes and Mexicans._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Roy Davenport._

"Rebel bastard…" Rune hissed to himself.

"You just described every man in the state…" Luca replied, looking over to Rune. "You want me to go with you?"

"No, I shall not take another breath in that man's presence," Rune said curtly as he looked over to Charlotte. "You're still reading and writing?" Charlotte nodded. "Father, how is she coming along?"

"A bright young woman, Mr. Brody," Elijah said, somewhat surprised. "Yes, she's sure to be as well-educated to the best of her ability."

"Good…" He held Charlotte's hand, gently tugging her from Elijah's lap. "It's about time we find you a little pony, teach you how to ride."

Charlotte frowned, looking at the horses. "They're big, though…"

"Ponies aren't." Rune smiled. "We'll teach you to ride with the rest of us."

"Rune," Luca said quietly, holding up the letter. "What are we doing with this?"

"I said I won't tolerate a second in the man's presence-"

"We can't risk angering the Davenports – their reach is-"

"You go and see them then," Rune said tiredly. "If you must." He turned back to Charlotte. "Are you scared to ride?" Charlotte shook her head. A moment later, she nodded. Rune let out a small chuckle. "It's okay – you'll love it as soon as you start. If not, we'll let you ride on the wagon with Abuela."

* * *

Elvira Colt wasn't too sure what to make of Parker. She hadn't met many men of his colour, but he seemed… well, nice. Intelligent too. The way he spoke and examined plants and read books with such focus – he was probably a genius compared to the shit-covered cattle hands back in Valentine.

"How're y'all getting on?" Near asked as he walked closer.

Parker looked up to see Ellie and frowned. "How long've you been there?"

Ellie opened her mouth, but Near laughed. "Don't take it personal, he's always like that."

"Like a shit?" Ellie raised an eyebrow.

Near gave a slight chuckle of laughter. "Yeah, like a shit." He rubbed his tired eye and sipped his tin cup of coffee. "C'mon, let's go shooting."

"I haven't eaten."

"Oh, yeah, that'll work in a gunfight…" Near pulled one of Ellie's browned steel revolvers from its holster and put it in her hands. "C'mon, I've saved us some empty cans…"

A half-hour into shooting at the cans, Near was placing them back on the log as Ellie slotted in a half-dozen bullets back into her Cattleman revolver.

"Something on your mind?" Near asked, picking up the single can that'd been knocked off. Ellie shrugged in response. "Can't help ya if ya don't speak." Ellie aimed her revolver at the cans a dozen metres away. "The sights are fine, girl."

"Woman," Ellie corrected him with a growl. Near walked back to her and crossed his arms as she fired again – three shots missing the can. She let out a sigh and looked up to him. "Alice is crazy."

"No," Near gasped in mock-shock.

"I mean… she's _really_ crazy. Killed a fool- she kissed him as she stabbed him-"

"The point?"

"The point is that…" Ellie shook her head. "I ain't here to ride with creeps like her…"

"Yeah, well, I can understand that at least…" Near murmured. "Fact is that I'm trying to find my people. Ain't had no luck but…" Near rubbed his chin. "That's why I'm here in Rhodes."

"What people?"

Near rubbed the stubble on his chin before limping to sit down on the log next to her. "Jules… my son," Near groaned as he sat down, "a regular ol' spitfire, that one… Mikalya, his woman. And then Marco, my best friend."

"That's it? That's your people?"

"Most gangs ain't too big…" Near shrugged. "Though… well, we ain't much of a gang – more of a family…"

Ellie rolled her eyes. "D'you know how many folk I heard back in Valentine saying they was like a family?"

"You've been with us two years now and you still don't see it?"

"Nah. Most of the time, you all can't stand each other."

"Like a real family." Near grinned. "Now, don't think you've distracted me – I'm still waiting for you to shoot."

Ellie looked towards the cans and sighed. "The sun's in my eyes."

Near groaned as he stood up and drew one of his double-action revolvers, his fingers pressing against the carved '_H.O._' on the wooden handle as he fired off a single shot. A clang was heard as a can fell off the log in the distance.

"You're right…" Near murmured as he holstered his revolver and took out his pipe. "The sun _is_ in your eyes…"

* * *

Ambrose and Roy sat in their parlour, drinking scotch in complete silence. They weren't the types to get angry – they'd learnt from their bastard of a father that there was only one way to respond to insults, and it wasn't crying and shouting like a child. They didn't get angry – they simply removed the threat. Methodical and logical – civilized people.

"Mr. Davenport," one of the servants said as he entered, "may I present-"

"Just bring him in," Ambrose grunted.

The door opened and the brothers turned to see someone enter – not Rune Brody, but Luca D'Angelo. A former Rhodes citizen.

"Mr. D'Angelo," Roy plastered on a polite smile.

"Where's Brody?" Ambrose growled.

"Otherwise occupied," Luca said, removing his hat and producing a cigarette. "He sends his regards."

"And you, in his stead." Roy tapped his finger against the glass, his signet ring clinking against it. "I trust you've heard of the robbery at the bank?"

"Rotten luck," Luca nodded, letting out a sigh. "Good haul, but I trust they won't get away with it."

"Of course not," Roy said calmly, scratching his forehead. "On the contrary, we've already found them."

Luca glanced towards Ambrose with a furrowed brow. "Is that so…?"

"Yes, but, Ambrose is dealing with that." Roy casually waved a hand. "Unexpected, but it's nothing we can't handle. Regardless, you're here to do a job for me."

"A job?"

"Yes, well, money is temporarily short, so I'll be calling in all my debts." Roy puffed on his cigar and pointed at Luca. "That's why you're here."

"Debt collections aren't exactly… my forte."

"No? No-one in that little mob springs to mind?"

Luca rubbed a hand along his clean-shaven chin and bit his lip. "Maybe."

"Mr. Mercer Floyd owns Hill Haven Ranch- well, he _bought_ it, but with a loan from us. The first payment due is $50."

Luca nodded and rose to his feet. "Well, I'll send my regards."

"The old man's got money," Roy said as Luca opened the door to leave. "Don't leave without taking what's ours."

Luca nodded and left the room. Roy glanced to Ambrose, who watched through the window as the outlaw mounted his dark brown Tennessee walker and began to canter away.

"Smug bastard…" Ambrose murmured before he turned to Roy. "What're ya planning?"

Roy dragged his thumb across his fingertips, narrowing his eyes. "Not sure yet…"

The door opened and Valentina entered, her skin taught and stretched over her cheekbones to the point one would think it would tear. "You should make an example, husband."

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Val?"

"Well, the Brotherhood are hardly bold enough to rob a bank we operate. They know the force we can bring to bear."

"What force is that?" Ambrose crossed his arms, looking to Roy.

"My brother-"

"We handle this ourselves," Roy said firmly. "This happens on our land, we don't go asking for help."

"So show them the fate of those that cross the Davenports."

Roy puffed on his cigar idly, turning the idea over in his head. A moment later, he looked to Ambrose. "Ride to Shady Belle with Avery and Mr. Cooper. Tell Maxwell that he's to have one hundred dollars for each of the Rune Brody gang strung up. I want him to make an example."

Ambrose nodded stiffly, pushing himself out of his armchair and leaving at once to fetch his son.

* * *

Avery sat in Genevieve's room, playing with a golden bauble as she turned the page of her book. He liked Genevieve – more so than his other cousin, Paradise. Genevieve was nice. Smart.

Avery didn't look much like his cousin – his hair was gold and tousled, his skin was tanned from the sun and a grisly scar was carved across his cheekbone. Well, his uncle was the gunfighter, so it was only natural Avery followed in his footsteps.

"So, you were missing on the fourth," Avery said idly, "Shelby and I had to make do without you."

"I was ill," Genevieve explained.

"No, you weren't," Avery scoffed, "I was here – you weren't in your room." Genevieve turned to face Avery, her mouth half-open as she began to formulate an excuse. "I can almost see the cogs turning in your head…" Avery grinned.

"I was somewhere else."

"Oh, wha- really?" Avery mockingly gasped. "Snuck off to do a little of the…" Avery made a gun with one hand and fanned his thumb with the other.

"No," Genevieve said, fighting the smile on her lips, though the dimples did show.

"Is that a lie?"

"No, it's…" Genevieve shook her head.

"Ah, off with Lucien?"

"God, no…" Genevieve rolled her eyes.

"But you were off with someone?" He asked with a coy smile. "Someone I know?" Genevieve shrugged. "Don't…" Avery mimicked her shrug. "At me."

"He's new to town."

Avery's smile disappeared slightly as he crossed his arms. "One of them Brody bunch?" Genevieve shrugged again, a slight smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Which one? Tell me it's one of the negroes – I'd _love_ to see Uncle's head explode…"

Genevieve laughed. "Sadly, no."

"Injun?"

"No- stop asking, I'm not going to tell you!"

"It's not that drunken Paddy is it?" Avery waited for Genevieve to respond. "Didn't know you had a thing for red-heads…"

"He's not red-" Genevieve caught herself and shook her head.

"There's another mick with them?" Avery frowned. "Oh, the other one at the Cotillion?"

"His name's Aiden."

"Aiden…" Avery over-pronounced the name, enunciating each vowel and consonant. "_Aiden_…"

"Can you stop, please?"

"Why? Thought you'd _love_ hearing his name-"

"Actually, we're not talking."

"Oh?" Avery smirked, putting down the bauble and standing up, leaning against one of the posts of her bed. Genevieve licked her lips and put down her book, turning away from her desk to face him.

"We had an argument." Avery responded by making another theatrical gasp. "He wanted me to leave with him."

"The bastard…" Avery grinned.

"Be serious, please."

Avery rolled his eyes. "Well, you don't much like it here…"

"It doesn't mean I want to leave!" Genevieve crossed her arms. "My family's here."

"You don't like the family."

"I like you? And Ambrose…"

"Two out of five." Avery rubbed his eye. "Genevieve, every other man has bored you… or they're more interested in Shelby's parties."

"How would you know…?"

"Unimportant- the point is that… maybe this is something to pursue?" Avery raised his shoulders at the suggestion. "As in… maybe you'd be happier with them?"

Genevieve sighed, turning the idea over in her head. She didn't know if she'd be happier with them – after all, Lana and Alice hadn't taken kindly to her, and the way Rune had watched her that night… it was all so strange.

The door knocked and, at Genevieve's word, opened. A servant stood there, curtsying as she looked to Avery. "Master Davenport, your father is requesting your presence."

"Well," Avery stretched his arms and took his gunbelt from the back of Genevieve's chair, slinging it over a shoulder, "I suppose I'll see you later. Or… maybe not…" He grinned and hugged his cousin closely, pecking her on the cheek. "When daddy and I are done, we'll go teach you how to twirl a revolver. Sound good?"

"Sure." Genevieve smiled and watched her younger cousin leave the room.

**So, that's it for this chapter. Only 7 more to go and then this phase will be done. So, hit me up with them fan theories for how this one will end! There's been quite a few already but… well, you're all sorta/maybe/kinda on the right lines, but no-one's accurately predicted what's going to happen.**

**Then again, I'd say that even if someone ****_had_**** predicted it so… make of that what you will.**

**Loving those reviews, though they're a little more scarce lately, so… let's do more of them! I'll most likely update tomorrow or Wednesday, so look forward to that. Or don't, whatever, I'm not the boss of you.**

**R.**


	12. For the Gang

**WARNING: (I know, right? I never do warnings…) this is rated 'M' for Muchos Mature… but seriously, this is a mature story.**

_Scarlett Meadows, LE_

_10__th__ July, 1902_

Aiden sat on the log, feeling the sweat on his skin grow cold in the breeze. He smiled widely as Near told his story of a shoot-out with the O'Driscolls, hobbling back and forth on the patch of grass and using voices as he talked about what they said.

"And then this big O'Driscoll bastard says 'only one o' us gotta die here,' Near said in his poor Irish accent, "so Jules says back to him, 'well, ain't that a darn shame?' and then blows the fool's hand off!"

Aiden let out a chuckle – the story wasn't particularly funny, but seeing Near's wide, toothy smile and hearing his deep, booming chortle was enough to make him laugh. "Sounds like a maniac…"

"Nah, my Jules ain't never shot no-one that didn't deserve it."

Aiden held up his hands in defeat. "If you say so…"

"So, c'mon, your turn. You've been with this lot longer, must have a couple of good stories."

Aiden rubbed his jaw and narrowed his eyes in thought. In trust, most stories Rune had found funny painted Aiden as the idiot. But, to be fair, Aiden knew he wasn't much in the way of book-learning. But then a story popped up in his head.

"I ever tell you 'bout this train station in West Elizabeth?"

"Don't think so…"

"Well…" Aiden grinned at the memory. "Matty hears 'bout this train coming through – carrying lumber and iron…"

"Stuff you can sell." Near nods along.

"Right, that's what we think. So, we get there and turns out Matty heard 'bout it at this camp a little outside of town…"

"Okay?"

"Yeah, he'd eaten some stew with these fellas." Near shrugged as Aiden grinned. "Turns out this stew… had some venison in it. But… hadn't been cooked properly." Near's mouth opened slightly as Aiden nodded. "Fella turns up and sees Matty squatting inside, shitting in the office and pointing a gun at the fella, telling him to remain calm."

Near slapped his leg with a cackle and shook his head. "How come I didn't hear 'bout that one?"

"Ah, you know how Matty gets…"

"Yeah, all young men are like that…" Near smiled. "Not my Harry though."

"Harry?" Aiden frowned.

"My boy. He's a good one… got a family further up North." Near's smile faltered slightly. "Not like Jules…"

Aiden took the bullets from his belt and began to carve his knife along the top of them, licking his lips as he thought whether or not to ask. "You heard anything 'bout them? While we been down this way?"

Near shook his head. "Poked around some old places but…" Near sighed. "I don't much… expect to find them," Near's tired eyes looked up at Aiden's young face, "I just wanna know what happened."

Aiden gave a short nod. He couldn't really understand that. He could try, it's just that, well, anyone Aiden cared about was either dead or in the gang. He didn't really have a life before Rune and Matty…

Aiden shook off the thought and glanced down to the bullet in his hand. "Hey, erm, Near- am I doin' this right?" Aiden asked, holding the bullets (which were absolutely split well). "Rune taught me but I always make a pig's ear of it… or, so he says…"

Near took the bullet from Aiden and held it up in the firelight. "I wouldn't say it's a _pig's_ ear…" Near smiled slightly. "But you'll get better with practice. Rune's been doing it for years, remember?"

"Well, so have I."

"Just be patient."

"Patience ain't my strong suit…" Aiden shrugged as he put the bullets back into his belt.

"Never too late to learn." Near smiled and then looked at the campfire. "Think we need some more wood."

"Think so…" Aiden nodded. Near grinned at him for a full second. "Oh, fine…" Aiden groaned before standing up and making his way towards the logs and picking up the axe in his calloused hand – the blisters were still healing, not to mention that his knuckles still felt slightly swollen from the fight a couple of weeks before… he winced as he gripped the handle and began splitting the wood to burn.

"Aiden!" Came the slick, southern twang of Luca's voice. "Aiden, you got a second?"

"Got a few…" Aiden put another log up to split.

"I, erm… I've got a job."

Aiden turned to face Luca, eyebrow raised. "That's good."

"Yeah, I figure…" Luca cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. "I figure you can help me with it." Aiden paused to relax his hand, checking the blisters. "I need someone who's… well… more… pugilistic." Aiden set down the axe and began gathering the firewood. "It means-"

"I know what it means," Aiden said. Luca grabbed a few extra pieces and walked Aiden across towards the fire. "So, who're we robbing?"

"We ain't robbing someone, we're… well, someone owes the Davenports a debt and..."

"And so you want me to come along and beat the fella 'til he pays?"

"No! Christ, Aiden, just…" Luca set down the wood by the fire and rubbed his bare jaw. "Look… tough."

Aiden glanced across the camp to Rune's tent and let out a long breath. "This ain't nothing to do with me, brother. Last time I did something like this for ya, Rune let fly at me…"

"I know, but… well, you're good at…"

"…scaring honest folk?" Aiden finished the sentence as he slotted more wood into the fire.

Luca bit his lip. Aiden was… well, he didn't seem as happy about it. Though, maybe this was because Aiden, Night's Hawk and Parker worked themselves hard for the gang. "Please?"

Aiden let out a groan – the fact was that, after four years of running together, Luca was family. And Rune had hammered in that single thought into Aiden's core – family helps one another. He didn't enjoy it, he felt dread at another one of Rune's lectures, but he couldn't turn away a brother asking for help. "Alright, leave it with me."

Luca smiled and clapped Aiden's shoulder. "Want me to come with ya?"

"Nah, I'll handle this… best keep that pretty red tie clean…"

"It's a cravat."

Aiden rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"The fella's name is Mercer Floyd – lives at Hill Haven Ranch, just north of Rhodes. Come find Lana and me later, we'll be at the Parlour House!"

"Sure…" Aiden waved a hand and sat down on the log, swatting away the flies from his sweated face.

"Back to collecting debts, son?" Near raised an eyebrow.

"It's for the gang." Aiden picked up his brown hat from beside him and fitted it on his head.

"Regular hero, ain't ya?"

"Yeah," Aiden scoffed, "you know me, same as always…" He pushed himself up. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Saint Denis was… well, it was awful. Ava thought that the town could never be worse than it was in her memory – she was wrong. Back in Paris, the buildings were gleaming and beautiful. The streets smelled of freshly baked bread as she would pass the boulangerie. She'd hear the casual, fluid fluttering of her mother tongue and sip some _magnifique_ _café_.

But Saint Denis? The streets smelt like shit, the Chinese, French and Creole would hack and splutter from the fumes and the coffee? The coffee tasted like a mulch of dirt and wet leaves. The smog, the sounds, everything – it was a reminder of what the gang were trying to leave behind.

Most days, Ava would've been preoccupied by this, but the night they walked down the streets, she felt something was… off. A man had been following her and Matty –a round Night's Hawk's age. Despite the fact that the man was fair-skinned with brown stubble peppered across his jaw, there was also something greatly unsettling in his demeanour. The way his green, almond eyes watched them, a smile twisting along his lips.

Ava grabbed Matty's hand and pulled him down an alleyway.

"Ey, what's this then?" Matty smirked as one hand began to pull up her dress. "Returning customer?"

"Behave." Ava smacked Matty's hand. "We're being followed."

"Followed?" Matty frowned, going to exit the alley. Ava grabbed Matty's hand once more and pulled him back.

"I don't think they know we know. I mean, I don't know _them_, but I know they're following _us_."

Matty blinked. "Ey?"

"Let's just…" Ava glanced around the alleyway and led him further down. "Hopefully we can lose him down here…"

Ava tugged Matty down another alleyway until they came to a small courtyard, dimly illuminated by candles and gas lanterns. Ava tried to make out which alleyway looked most familiar…

"Where're the both o' y'all sneakin' off to?"

Ava turned around to see the young man step into the lantern light, the steel revolvers glinting brightly. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw as he walked closer.

"What's the craic, big man?" Matty asked hesitantly.

"Crack?" The young man frowned. "Y'all saying y'all wanna crack my skull open?"

Matty responded with a laugh. "Sure, boyo."

"Y'all, erm…" the young man approached them as Ava stepped back, further away from him. "Y'all paddies?"

"Aye," Matty grinned. "On me da's side. Mam was a Scot."

"So, both of y'all are Catholics?" He raised an eyebrow. Ava heard footsteps and turned around to see two more men walking down another alleyway. One, a thin, spindly man with a tangled web of greasy black hair sticking to his sweated cheeks. His face was marred with a collection of deep, jagged wounds. The other man was a brute, towering over the four of them – a real slack-jawed mean bastard, with scars all around his bloodshot left eye.

"Maybe," Matty said, looking over his shoulder at the two men. "That a problem?"

The man smiled and removed his hat. "Y'all don't know me, but I know y'all. Matty the Mick and Aveline De-lay-croy. The whore."

"_Delacroix_," Ava corrected him.

"Yeah, ain't that right?" The man's lip twitched into a smirk as he removed his hat. "Gareth Maxwell, lieutenant of the Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders."

Matty nodded. "Aye, yous the bastards Alice and Aiden kicked the shite out of?" He snickered. "Christ, yous are a big one, ain't ya?" Matty murmured as he clapped eyes on the larger man.

"Titus, Lot…" Gareth gestured to the giant and the gangly one. "Mr. Davenport told us we're to knock the shit outta y'all."

Matty glanced to Ava, giving her a wink and a smile before facing Gareth with a look of pleasant surprise. "Oh, he did? That's grand." He took a breath. "Yous can tell him that Matty Donnelly told him…" Matty pressed a finger to his mouth in thought. "He's a cunt… his mother's a cunt… Oh! Yous are all cunts- yeah, all three of yous…" Matty looked up at the sky for a moment. "No, that's about it. So…" Matty shooed Gareth away with his hand. "Off you hop."

The men laughed. "If y'all think y'all can just waltz on outta here, you best draw now, cos only way y'all're getting outta here is by killing all three of us."

"Grand!" Matty shrugged. "I'll start with yous."

Matty gripped the dark walnut handle of his blue-steeled revolver and began to fan the hammer. Three shots cracked through the alley and Gareth fell against the wall, clutching his thigh. A roar erupted from behind and Matty spun around to fire from his hip again, hitting the giant Titus in the shoulder. But Titus, now enraged, kicked Matty, sending him down the alley.

Ava ran forwards, grabbing Matty and pulling him to his feet. He was dazed, trying to see straight as he tumbled after Ava, fumbling at the bullets in his belt to reload his revolver.

Matty shuffled a couple of bullets into his revolver and turned around, blinking rapidly as he tried to cock back the hammer. He fell backwards, his revolver skidding out of his hand. "Ava, me fuckin'-"

A gunshot cracked through the alleyway, and Matty screamed. Ava dashed towards his gun, only to find the barrel of Titus', still smoking, pressed against her chocolate brown hair. Titus leered at her, his eyes roving down to her breasts as he licked his torn, scarred lips.

"Same feckin' leg…" Matty groaned as he grabbed his knee, gasping and hissing through the pain.

"See," Gareth grunted as he limped down the alleyway, "y'all're gon' act like that then…"

Gareth holstered his revolver as Lot grabbed a fistful of Matty's red hair and dragged him to his feet. Lot removed a knife and began to saw the thin blade behind Matty's ear, tugging at the lobe. Matty hissed, good leg kicking out.

Gareth gestured for Lot to stop and walked closer, grabbing Matty's chin. "Y'all gon' behave y'selves now?"

"I'm going to kill you," Matty moaned, "and I'm going to feckin' laugh when I watch you die…"

Gareth licked his lips as he searched Matty's green eyes and found nothing but determination and truth. He nodded and then nodded to Titus, who pressed the barrel of his revolver into Ava's mouth and used his other hand to rip apart her dress, forcing her legs around his waist.

"Y'all gon' watch first."

**So, like… yeah. **

**It's a bit of a risky area writing about this stuff, but, y'know, this is rated M for a reason, and it's not just the swearing. I know it's not radically explicit, but yeah – I feel like a lot of people include it in stories for the sake of being controversial, but hopefully this isn't that, so… yeah.**

**And yes, from here on out, a lot of the chapters are going to be rated 'M' – sometimes it's just gore, other times it's very graphic – not necessarily in a bad way, it's just… accurate depictions. **

**Man, I hate writing sometimes.**

**R.**


	13. Deo Vindice

**I know, right, another chapter already?**

**This was going to be a lot longer, but... well, I didn't want to throw in a bunch of stuff that detracts from what happens in this chapter and to be honest with you, I didn't want to redraft this chapter, so yeah.**

**Again, rated M. But also… this chapter got real. Like… yeah.**

_Rhodes, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

_10__th__ July, 1902_

Genevieve was dressed all in black, as was everyone else in the cemetery. The protestant priest preached about how the deceased would find peace in Heaven, and Lucien's mother sobbed quietly.

The rumours were that women shot down Francis during the bank robbery – there were no women in the Brotherhood. It seemed this gang may have actually been worse than she'd ever thought – they boasted of their familial bonds and loyalties to one another, but killing a man in cold blood while playing the part of moralizers? If one was to be a criminal, they should not be so dishonest about it.

Genevieve had left early, if only because Lucien kept on offering her his handkerchief and arm and, well, Genevieve felt sorry for him, of course, but she didn't want to be escorted around in public by him. Besides, there were more pressing things on her mind.

Genevieve felt out of sorts. Maybe it was the stress of Lucien and her family and Aiden, but… well, she hadn't bled yet. And she was meant to. It was just the stress, though, surely? She hadn't felt sick yet – her mother told her that she'd felt sick in the mornings when carrying Genevieve…

She had walked through Rhodes, past the bank and the stores, until she came to the Parlour House. Her uncle Shelby was never the type to pester her, and he was always happy to receive her.

About an hour had passed and Genevieve was sat on the balcony, seeking shelter beneath the canopy and feeling the cool breeze kiss her skin. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to just feel that moment, pressing the cold glass of lemonade against her neck.

"I ain't no genius," the husky New Austin accent grunted, "but ain't you supposed to _drink_ that?"

Genevieve opened her eyes to see Aiden sitting opposite her with a bottle of whiskey and a small glass. He took out a small tin and began rolling himself a cigarette.

"It's impolite to sneak up on me."

"I didn't sneak, your eyes were closed."

"Then perhaps I did not wish to be disturbed," Genevieve said crisply. Aiden held up his hands in surrender for a moment.

"Was just wondering if I could talk to you."

"What about?"

"Not about anything, just…" Aiden licked the papers of his cigarette and began to tap it against the table, eyes dropping down to his black boots that scraped against the floor. "I dunno…" he murmured.

"Three women killed Francis Durand last week," Genevieve informed Aiden. "Shot him down in the street like a dog."

Aiden rubbed his jaw. "Three women?" He shook his head slowly. "Yeah, I can make a guess…"

"But can't you see that… don't you think…" Genevieve shook her head. "It's wrong. For all your talk of wanting better for yourself…"

"Myself." Aiden nodded. "Me and Rune and whoever else wants it. But Alice- she ain't exactly a calm one."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it _bothers_ me…"

"Then leave the gang," Genevieve said simply. "If this is something that happens often, leave it all behind."

"So, it's fine for you to want to stay here with your folk, but if I want to stay with mine-"

"It's not the same, Aiden, you know that. You can change your ways, become a-"

"You don't get it," Aiden said – not with rage or hate, but with a quiet sadness. As if it was something no-one but he truly understood. "Rune's…" Aiden sighed. "People rely on me. And I… I rely on them too, I guess." Aiden cast his mind back to four years ago, almost exactly to the day. "I know I ain't a good guy, but… well, I keep my promises." Genevieve scoffed as she looked away to Rhodes. So many fools that surrounded her – all with their own damn codes to live by… she couldn't make head nor tail of it. "But maybe, someday, when all this is done, we can… maybe we can find-"

"I'm engaged to be married."

"Well…" Aiden licked his lips, eyes darting around in thought. "We could…" Genevieve raised an eyebrow. "We could… you could not marry him?"

She blinked. "What a novel idea!"

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, like, _we_ could…" He shrugged.

Genevieve's dark blue eyes shone into Aiden's hazel with a look of surprise. "You are… the least romantic person I know." Aiden looked away with a grunt. "So I'd end up travelling with you as, what, your woman?"

"I dunno…" Aiden cleared his throat. "I'm just…" He shrugged.

"You're quite the wordsmith, aren't you?"

"Gen, I'm just…" He bit his lip in frustration. "Would that be so bad?"

Gen scoffed. "You aren't being serious…"

"Why not?"

"Because!" Gen let out a small (slightly hysterical) laugh. "You can't live here, and I can't leave…" Aiden gritted his teeth and clicked open his cracked, battered pocketwatch, brushing a hand across it's broken face. "Your watch is broken."

"Yeah, I know…" Aiden pocketed it. "I need to do something… Can I see you-"

"Do what?"

"I… just chat with someone."

"A chat? Really?" She crossed her arms. "You're going to rob someone aren't you?"

Aiden stood up. "I'm doing something for your father."

Genevieve frowned. "That doesn't strike you as strange?"

"No."

"So, you rob the bank of our money, he gives you another job, and that's just… fine with you?"

"I'm only in it for the money." Aiden shrugged. "Can I see you later on?"

"Not tonight," Genevieve said quietly. "Lucien is having a wake."

"Lucien…" Aiden nodded.

"There's a party tomorrow. On the riverboat."

"Oh, 'cos I was planning on attending anyway…" Aiden muttered to himself as he got to his feet. "Goddamn riverboat…"

"Don't be sarcastic, Aiden…"

"Why, you got a patent on that?"

Genevieve managed to fight off the smile, though the corners of her lips curled and her dimples showed. "I trust you'll find your own way onto the boat?"

"Of course."

* * *

Sam Washington had been working hard at Hill Haven Ranch, moving bales of hay for the horses and milking the cows. He was certain he was getting bigger – his shirt was slightly tighter across his chest, and with each ache in his arms, he felt the bales get lighter.

He was sat on the porch of the house, staring at the carton of cigarettes beside Mercer's old, scarred hand; Sam had never smoked before, but Mercer did it so often… maybe it really was as enjoyable as he said.

Sam licked his lips, contemplating how Old Man Mercer would react if he awoke, and picked up the carton, taking one of the crisp white cigarettes and placing it in his mouth. He lit a match and began to puff on the cigarette. A second later, his spluttering coughs woke up Mercer.

"The hell you doin', boy?" Mercer cleared his throat and chuckled at the cigarette in his hand. "Enjoyin' that, are ya?"

"How do you like that?" Sam frowned.

"Practice." Mercer smiled – a rare sight. Mercer cleared his throat again and looked out on the horizon – vacant apart from a lone rider in the distance. "If I were to sell this place…" Mercer said slowly, "what would you do?"

Sam bit his lip – what _would_ he do? He couldn't go back to Boston – the memories deterred him more than the lawmen… Colorado? No, he knew he wouldn't be welcomed there – they took in his innocent sister, not him. He was a killer – a criminal. "I'll go where you go," Sam said finally.

"And when I'm gone?"

Sam shrugged. "I… I don't rightly know."

"Well…" Mercer pulled another cigarette out of his carton. "I'm an old man. You best-" He stopped talking suddenly, rising to his feet to watch the approaching rider. "Boy, get yourself inside."

"Why, what's-"

"I said get the hell inside!" Mercer snapped. Sam leapt up and retreated inside the house. "You don't open 'less I tell you, you hear?"

Sam nodded and shut the door behind him, breathing deeply as his eyes fell on Mercer's nickel revolver that lay in its holster.

Aiden didn't like ranches. Not since he'd left Ridgewood – there was a painful reminder. Others had what he had lost – it filled him with anger. More than that, he was rageful. He wanted to get the damned hell away from the ranch as quickly as he could.

An old man stood on the porch, leaning against the wooden post as he tipped his hat up to examine Aiden properly. "The hell are you?" The old man said in his ragged southern voice.

"Mercer Floyd?" Aiden leant forwards on his horse, resting his calloused hands on the horn of his saddle.

"What business is it of yours?"

Aiden nodded and began to dismount. "I gotta talk to you."

"I don't know you, boy. Get the hell off my land-"

"Roy Davenport sent me." Aiden said, clutching the buckle of his belt. Mercer's eyes grew wide, his hand falling by his waist, where a revolver would have sat. He glanced back up to Aiden and dashed into the house as fast as his old bones would carry him. Aiden grunted and marched up to the door, hearing wooden furniture scrape along the floor. He launched a foot into the door and knocked it open, walking inside and pointing a finger at Mercer. "You owe me money."

Mercer dashed towards the chair that his gunbelt hung on. Aiden tipped the table forwards and grabbed Mercer by the throat, pushing him up against the wall. "Ambrose told me-"

"Did I ask you what he said?" Aiden growled. "You took a loan, it's time to repay!"

"He said I had 'til-"

Aiden threw a punch into the old man's gut and watched him fall to the floor before grabbing him by the neck and lifting him back up. "I ain't here to talk!" Aiden shouted at the man's face. "I'm here to collect!"

"I ain't got no-"

Aiden threw the man across the room and rested a hand on the maple hilt of his knife. "Do I gotta cut it outta you?"

"Please, sir, please- I ain't got enough to live on…"

Aiden kicked the man hard in the ribs and moved his hand from his knife to the pearl eagle engraved on his Cattleman revolver. "Do that seem like _my_ problem?" Aiden growled. "Tell me where it is before I put a bullet in you!"

A door from one of the bedrooms opened and a young boy emerged – only fourteen or so. He held a broomstick clumsy, pointing the tip at Aiden. The boy was narrow-faced with brown eyes and thin lips. His dark brown hair was chopped unevenly, and he gulped, the broom shaking in his hands.

Aiden looked back to the Old Man. How old had Aiden been when his father died? He knew he'd been lucky to have Rune to watch out for him back then, but looking at the old man struggle to breathe and push himself back up… who'd look after the kid if he died?

No. No, he'd put that behind him. It didn't matter anymore – the _gang_ was what mattered. This was for the gang – his own troubles didn't matter. Rune depended on him. "You get me that money by tomorrow else I'm coming back," Aiden said lowly to the old man as he walked back towards the front door.

"You're an awful man!" The kid barked in a shaking voice. "A rotten man!"

"The hell you say to me, boy?" Aiden snarled.

"I- I said you're a rotten man!"

Aiden clenched his jaw, his hand balling into a fist. He looked back to the old man, groaning and wiping blood from his mouth. "Yeah…" Aiden nodded. "Yeah, I know, kid."

* * *

Rune sat in the Parlour House, which was surprisingly empty, aside from a few men and women. A quiet evening – just what they needed. He didn't particularly enjoy being surrounded by the Rebel bastards, but he wanted to make sure Alice and Lana didn't spend too much – that'd just arouse suspicion.

Alice and Lana had a bottle between the two of them while Luca, Ellie and Rune settled themselves with another. Luca had mentioned Aiden was coming after business, so it seemed that two bottles would be enough – Rune was getting an uneasy feeling. They needed to move, but before they could do that, they needed more money.

Rune wanted the Davenport fortune. He wanted those bastards to know that America didn't have no Kings. Rune had served Uncle Sam for years and lost everything – even his own morality. His payment was nought but nightmares and pain and he'd sworn to never scrape and bow to another man again. A man had once said 'we forge the chains we wear in life'. Rune's chains were the gang – it was his burden and his blessing.

"Stepping down?" Luca asked Rune quietly in the corner. "What the hell are ya-"

"I'm a soldier, Luca," Rune said tiredly. He was just _so_ tired. "Soldiers belong in war, and… well, we ain't exactly at war no more…" His eyes drifted to Alice, who slurred a story to Ellie at the table in the centre of the room.

"So, this old bat is crowing on 'bout how all the boys are useless 'cos they ain't shootin', and then tells _me_ to shoot 'em." Ellie just stared at Alice, making no acknowledgement of her words. "And then I say, 'You all gone yellow at the sight'-" Alice's eyes drifted up to a man who entered the Parlour House – Aiden.

"Ah, glad to see you, son," Rune said with a smile as he stood up, arms outstretched as his ward approached. "Come you in and share a drink…"

Aiden stopped beside Rune and pointed a finger at Alice. "What've you done?"

Alice blinked. "A lotta things?"

"The bank," Aiden said loudly. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Aiden, people will hear-" Luca tried to warn him.

"Let 'em," Aiden barked, looking back to Alice. "Why'd you rob the damn bank?"

Rune stood up and looked to the others in the room. "Out. All of you, _now_!" The patrons hurried away, leaving their drinks full and plates half-eaten. Rune watched them leave and pointed to the bartender. "You as well, mister."

The bartender put the glass down on the bar and left out the back. Rune stroked his clean-shaven jaw and turned back to Aiden, letting out a deep breath as he saw his family descend into argument.

"You've lost your goddamn mind," Aiden snarled.

"See, Ellie, you know that moody-bones McKneil is just a sour-face. Daddy's little pet, ain't that so?"

Aiden reached across the table to grab Alice, but Luca quickly pulled him back. "Aiden, calm y'self-"

"You got any damn idea who you're talking to?" Aiden bawled at her. "Now we've got to get the hell outta-"

"We're outlaws, Aiden." Lana pointed out, rising from her seat. "Or have you forgotten?"

Alice turned to Rune. "He's getting soft, Rune, we can all see that – you ain't going to do nothing 'bout it?"

"About _me_? You goddamn- by robbing the bank, we're robbing the Davenports! They own the bank, the law, this goddamn saloon-"

"So keep your voice down," Luca warned Aiden.

"Who cares if we rob the Davenports?" Ellie frowned.

"You fools are starting a damn war!" Aiden paced to the bar, leaning on it and trying to regain his composure. "They know _who_ we are, _where_ we are and _what_ we're running from-"

"I told them to do it," Rune said quietly. Aiden and Ellie turned slowly to examine Rune. One thing Ellie prided herself on was knowing when a fight was coming. With words, fists or guns, she always knew – years in a saloon had taught her that.

"I need to piss…" Ellie said quietly, standing up and making her way out.

"You what?" Aiden frowned, his voice suddenly soft when addressing his mentor.

"I fought these folk years after the war…" Rune explained. "They don't care 'bout _nobody_ who ain't from here! Not just fellas who ain't white, I mean anyone who ain't _them_! And they'd ask us to kneel before them? _Them_? Rebel bastards with…" Rune shook his head. "I'm done working for bastards like them…"

"But they ain't Rebels no more!" Aiden groaned. "The war ended a long time ago, Rune…"

"Not in places like this." Luca shook his head as he looked to Rune. "So this _was_ a revenge mission?"

"You knew 'bout this?" Aiden asked.

"Wha…" Rune shook his head. "No, _no_, of course not, Luca! It's the same as always – rob folk who need robbing. Right?"

"Right," Lana nodded with great certainty.

"Sure." Alice shrugged.

Rune turned to Aiden with a raised eyebrow. "I dunno, Rune…" Aiden murmured. "I ain't sure-"

"Aiden, _son_…" Rune placed a fatherly hand on Aiden's shoulder, his pale blue-grey eyes staring tenderly into his son's hazel ones. His voice softened as grew quiet as he spoke closely into Aiden's ear. "Don't let your feelings for some girl cloud your judgement. _You_ are better than _that_."

Aiden opened his mouth to respond when a scream was heard from outside. They all turned towards the door Ellie had left through and drew their revolvers, dashing outside.

A body was pinned to the white wooden boards on the outside of the Parlour House. A collection of knives were impaled through her wrists, spreading her arms out wide. He ankles were nailed to the wall, legs spread, revealing her bloodied and torn womanhood. Her fine silken corset had been ripped open, her face badly bruised and bloodied. Her deep russet curls were sodden with blood and mire, one of her eyes swollen, her eyelid drooping down over her chocolate brown eyes. Knives were stuck through her shoulders and beside her, painted in blood were two words.

"_Deo vindice_…" Rune muttered.

"Ava…" Luca murmured, eyes wide as his eyes examined her broken body. Her head twitched, her eye falling on him. "She's still alive…"

"Matty…" Ava croaked quietly. "They've got Matty…"

"Get her down…" Rune said quietly. He looked over his shoulder to Luca. "Get her down!" He bawled loudly. Luca stumbled forwards, looking at her body and clasping a hand around one of the knives. Ava let out a hiss and a cry of pain and Luca quickly relinquished the knife, taking a step back and clutching his forehead. "What do I… Aiden, help me…" He looked back to his younger brother, who stared at Ava in a daze. "Help me!"

Aiden moved forwards to grip one of the knives in Ava's shoulder, but she just cried out again. Luca quickly shushed her, wiping away the tears and blood from her cheek. "It's okay, Ava, it's… it's gon' be alright…"

"Shady Belle…" Ava rasped. "Matty's… they're holed up-"

"Just let us-" Luca grabbed the hilt of one of the knives again, trying to wrench it out as quickly as he could, if only to save Ava from her suffering, but it was no good. "I- Ellie, go back to camp, get Parker!"

"Just…"

"Go and get Parker!"

"Luca…" Ava said tearfully, wincing as she spoke. She let out a shaking breath, her voice cracked. "Just kill me…" Luca opened his mouth as he turned back to Ava, his hand getting lost in her once-pretty hair. It still smelled of roses. She leant her head on his shoulder, muttering quietly. "Just kill me…"

"We…" Luca let out a hiss of a breath. "We can still…"

"Please."

Luca's hand closed around a fistful of her hair as he breathed deeply, looking to Aiden, who didn't dare meet his gaze. Luca took a long drag of air and took a step back from Ava, drawing one of his Schofield revolvers, his thumb grazing across the ornate brass engravings against the black iron and clicking back the revolver into place as he raised his shaking hand to aim the barrel at Ava's forehead.

He bit his lip, letting out quick jagged breaths, his face crumpling as he prepared to kill one of the best women he'd ever known. He closed his eyes.

"Luca," Rune's gravelly voice came from the left. Luca looked to his side to see Rune lowering his revolver, shaking his head as he clicked the hammer back into place. "It's okay."

Luca shook his head. "I can't-"

"It's okay, brother," Rune shushed him, "it's okay." Rune hugged Luca, patting him on the shoulder before looking to Lana, who walked forwards to hold her man as Rune drew one of his steel Cattleman revolvers, looking at the broken woman that was pinned against the wall like a clock. "I…" Rune clicked back the hammer. "I'm sorry, Miss Ava." His grey-blue eyes fell to the red clay beneath them. "For everything, I- I truly am…"

"Charlotte," Ava mumbled, "tell her I…" Ava swallowed, her breath shaking. Rune nodded.

"Of course." Rune let out a long breath, eyes closed as he prepared himself what he was about to do. A second passed and he raised the gun, pulling the trigger. A shot cracked through the air and wood splintered as Ava's head lulled onto her chest, one of her eyes missing, replaced by a bloodied hole.

Luca wept loudly and Aiden hung his head. "God…_damn_ it…" He mumbled.

Rune looked down at his revolver. Once something that he used to defend the gang- defend his _family_ with. A tool that he used for justice when it was denied them by everyone else. It felt heavy in his hand. It was clunky and splattered with Ava's blood.

Rune swept a hand across his face, wiping the blood from his eyes and swallowed hard. He tossed the revolver to the ground and looked to Aiden. "Take her down, for Christ's sake. Bury her someplace nice."

Aiden gave a small nod. Rune turned to walk away, only to hear Aiden call after him. "We're going to kill the bastards, aren't we?"

Rune clenched his jaw, turning back to the closest he'd ever had to a son. They weren't the type to see revenge – it was part of their code. And Rune… he didn't dare act in haste. He was afraid of what he might do. He was afraid he'd visit the destruction from Silver Bend upon the Brotherhood. With one of their own already dead… he couldn't afford to lose more of them.

"We'll get Matty back," Rune said quietly. "I swear this, son, but…" He screwed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath in hopes of keeping his temper cool. "She needs to be buried."

Lana tried to pull Luca away, back to camp, but he was insistent on taking Ava's body down as well. It needed to be him. While Lana and Ellie helped, Alice just stood there, looking at the gruesome remains of the whore. And Aiden's hazel eyes bored into her.

**So, yeah. Seems no-one saw that coming. Like… I don't really know how to say it, so I guess that means I did a good job of it.**

**I just want to thank Aveline 'Ava' Delacroix's creator, **_A Terrific Acorn__,_ **for creating this character, she… well, she meant a lot to all of us, I think. But, yeah, the fact is that a lot of outlaws were killed. Not just in RDR, but in history. So, now you all know – characters ****_will_**** die in this story. Be warned, this will ****_not_**** be the last one. **

**R.**


	14. Outgunned and Outmatched

**I'm smiling because I know you're gonna hate this. What does that say about me?**

**Ooohkay, this is a long one, so, buckle in.**

_11__th__ July, 1902_

_Shady Belle, LE_

Isaiah Maxwell was into his fifties, but his dream was as alive as it ever was since the day he'd arrived back from war. Since he'd buried his father in land now claimed by Yankees, since he'd come home to a son and a dead wife.

The Brotherhood of Southern Crusaders were twenty-eight guns strong, minus those seven that had gone north to deal with the missing guns and recruitment. The Davenports were… a necessary evil. The Brothers, they were bearable, not counting the sodomite. But Valentina? A dago? Her children were half-breeds…

What particularly frustrated Isaiah was the Rune Brody Gang. Festering like a wound in God's own country… a bunch of women, spics, niggers and micks that were ruining all that he'd worked towards. And the Lemoyne Raiders, well, they were no damn help… too busy whining 'bout before the war, but they only hated Yankees and blacks. Didn't they hate them that what killed Christ? Them injuns what scalped his granddaddy?

Isaiah rubbed his grey stubble and looked his son up and down. Gareth was eighteen now – starting to become a man. But he'd still yet to see him take a woman or have a son of his own, bastard or no. Gareth was definitely his son, he knew that in his bones, but the boy had been ineffectual in his youth. Not a Maxwell – not enough. After all, Isaiah had gone off to fight for the south with his father. What had Gareth done beside get drunk?

"How's the paddy?"

Gareth shrugged and looked to examine the ginger lad. "How you doing, mickey?"

The ginger man's face was riddled with scares from Lot's knives. His hazel eyes were dulled and bloodshot, a chunk of his lip had been torn away, exposing his teeth that twisted out of his bleeding gums. The lad took a ragged breath and looked up at Gareth with nothing but hatred and resentment.

"I think he's alright…" Gareth murmured.

"When will they come?" Gareth shrugged and, in a single second, Isaiah leant across from his chair to grab Gareth by the ear and hissed at him. "If I ask you a question, you respond, you hear me?"

"I hear ya, daddy!"

Still weak. Still feeble. A real man would've beaten him half to death and left him with a warning, but Gareth was not a real man. He wasn't even a man. Just a little boy that was still crying about his momma.

"What a sad little creature you are…" Isaiah muttered to himself, standing up and kicking Gareth's ankle as he walked across the room. "Toughen up, boy! Christ punishes me for something I don't rightly understand…"

The door slammed and Gareth flickered his tongue across his teeth, letting out a sharp pant of breath. He could feel himself getting angry again, but, he would never hit his pa – his momma made him promise that when he was just a kid. He didn't know what his daddy expected from him… what was it to be more of a man? As in, women didn't hold much intrigue for him. Why should he chase them when the cause was infinitely more important?

There was some more ragged breathing. No… crying? Gareth turned to see the Irishman had a large smile painted across what remained of his lips as he looked at Gareth with his better eye. "You forgot to tell him… I said… he's a cunt…"

Gareth's hand balled into a fist and he shot up out of his chair, launching his fist into the paddy's nose.

* * *

It was pretty. Forests at the bottom of the hill with a stream and deer grazing. The rising sun bleeding through the trees, a small crowd gathered that with hankerchiefs to pat the sweat from their necks.

Lana had… well, she'd not been friends with Ava. Not really. It hadn't been easy for her – watching a pretty courtesan spend so much time with Luca. She didn't really know if she should be there. Luca wasn't and he'd cared about her – maybe more than anyone else.

"He should be here…" Rune murmured to himself as Elijah opened his bible beside Ava's grave and began her last rites.

"Let him grieve, for pity's sake…" Near whispered.

"He should be here," Rune repeated, more firmly this time. He looked over to Lana, jerking his head back to the campsite. Lana returned the slightest nod and turned around to walk away from the grave, down towards the shore.

Charlotte hadn't been to a funeral before. It was strange, knowing Ava was gone. Strangely enough, she wasn't upset. It wasn't that she didn't understand, she did, she just… wasn't sad. She tried to cry – she even pinched herself really _really_ hard, but she still couldn't bring herself to tears.

She watched Elijah finish his rites and spread the dirt over the cloth-covered body as everyone crossed their hearts.

Abuela knelt down, her bones creaking, as she asked Charlotte, "do you want to say anything?"

Charlotte shrugged in response. She looked over to Aiden and Near, who held their hats in their hands. Parker grabbed a fistful of dirt and threw it into the hole, crouching down and hanging his head. "She was a good woman…" He muttered, rubbing his hands clean on his knees.

"We should never've gotten involved with any of this…" Aiden grunted.

"Oh, c'mon, McKneil," Alice groaned, rolling her eyes, "we didn't have nothing to do with what happened to her…"

"Oh really?" Aiden walked around the grave towards her. "We robbed their bank, stole their liquor, killed a man in the streets-"

"Oh, like you're so high and mighty, McKneil, beating an old man? That's right, I heard 'bout you doing the Davenport's work like some goddamn errand boy! Least I'm sticking true to what Rune taught us!"

"You don't know nothing 'bout what you're saying… you don't give a damn 'bout _nothing_! Acting like a damn fool all the time- you ain't done nothing but cause trouble!"

"Been making money though, ain't I?" Alice smiled. "Ain't been spending all my time with a Davenport…"

"Will the pair of you shut your damn mouths?" Rune hissed. "We're at a funeral, show a modicum of respect!"

Aiden licked his lips and glared at Alice, giving the slightest scoff before clenching his fist and setting off back towards the camp.

* * *

Lana had been walking for ten minutes or so when she heard thuds and grunting. She looked over to see Luca in the treeline, launching his fist into one of the tree trunks over and hissing in pain. Lana walked closer, calling over to him. He didn't hear her – or, at least, he didn't seem to, as he continued punching the tree again and again. Lana called out again as she came closer, finally grabbing his hand and also his attention. Luca turned to look at her, eyes red and stinging.

"Luc, look at your hand…"

Luca looked down at his right hand, covered in blood and bark, shaking and pale white as he gently lowered his hand down. Lana wrapped her arms around him and let his face fall onto her shoulder as he sniffled slightly. "I'm going to kill them…" he muttered, "_all_ of them!"

Lana opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it. Luca wanted blood – they all did, but Rune was right, revenge was a bad business. It never solved anything and often made even more trouble than they had to begin with. But, in spite of all that being said, Lana wanted to slit the _bastardos_' throats.

"We'll get Matty back," Lana said quietly.

Aiden tightened the uptugs of his saddle on Ryder, rubbing down his Palomino coat and shushing his horse as he picked up the double-barrelled shotgun from his shoulder and slid into his saddle's holster.

"What're you doing, son?"

Aiden turned around to see Near standing there, puffing on a cigarette as his other hand pinched the brim of his brown leather hat. His brown eyes seemingly more interested in the smoke from his fingertips.

"I'm getting Matty back," Aiden told him, turning back to tighten his saddle.

"Oh, y'are, are ya?" Near threw the remainder of the cigarette onto the floor and stubbed it out with the sole of his boot. "All on ya own?"

"You saw what them bastards did to Ava! I ain't just gonna…" Aiden shook his head. "This gang is- well, it's the world to me. It's the only thing that means anything to me and there ain't nothing I wouldn't do for it-"

"Including running off on y'own and getting' y'self shot?" Near folded his arms. "We need time to talk and come up with a plan. Then we can get Matty back _together_."

* * *

Rune rubbed his palm along the soft black felt of his hat and hung his head. Goddamn it… Ava… she'd always been so sweet to Charlotte. Maybe a little… misguided, but it was clear how much the girl had meant to her.

Parker came along and sat down beside Rune, rubbing his chin before slowly slipping his chocolate hand inside of his. "We should never've come down this way…" Rune muttered.

Parker nodded before reaching into his leather satchel and removing a well-cared for revolver, his hand clasping the dark walnut grip gingerly. It was Rune's revolver – the one that had killed Ava.

Rune shook his head, going to stand up, but Parker spoke first. "Rune, please, just…"

"I don't want to touch that damned thing ever again!" Rune hissed.

"What you did…" Parker frowned, trying to fathom it. "Just to spare Luca and Ava the pain…" Parker shook his head. "I can't even imagine…"

Rune pulled his hand from Parker's and held it out completely still. "The first time I killed a man… I couldn't stop shaking. And now…" Rune dropped his hand back into his lap. "I never noticed when I stopped."

"We need you, Rune," Parker said. "We're all… no-one knows what to do. We need you here, with us. And if this gun killed Ava..." Parker gently put the revolver in Rune's hand. "Maybe it can be the one that avenges her too."

Rune looked down at the revolver in his hands. The faded nickel… one of them had a long barrel – courtesy of Ira Kramer. That old, bookish Jew from new York… never liked New Yorkers, but Rune liked Ira. But poor old Ira had been the first to go during the fight at the Herridge Manor… he never did take to life outside of the city.

"We don't seek revenge…" Rune muttered the same words he had said four years ago.

"It's not revenge, it's justice," Parker said firmly, grabbing Rune's hand once again. "Never doubt yourself, Rune. The others may doubt you, but _never_ think you are anything other than the man you are, because I…" Parker stifled a cough and cleared his throat. "You're the finest man I know."

Rune stood up, feeling the weight of his gun in his hand, fumbling it back into his holster as he stood up, more tired than ever before. "Get Aiden, Luca, Near- Anna too…" Rune looked in front of himself to see Miss Anna was already there, a hand resting on the ebony buckle of her gunbelt. "Miss Anna," Rune said stiffly.

"I, erm…" Anna cleared her throat. "I heard… about what you did for Ava."

"I don't quite like to talk about it…" Rune replied curtly as he walked away to find the others.

"Rune!" Anna called over her shoulder. He turned around to see her biting her lip. "I ain't much good with people but you… you did the right thing."

"It don't feel like it…" Rune said hollowly.

"I know what the bastards can do…" Anna said, her eyes drifting over to the campfire for a moment before she turned to face Rune fully. "Only I didn't have someone to put a bullet in me when they were done."

Rune nodded. It hurt him – somewhere deep inside his chest where something resembling a heart still beat. "I'm sorry, Miss Anna," Rune took his hat from his left hand and stroked the brim of it. "For what you've suffered, I- there ain't no-one living I'd wish that upon."

* * *

At the large, round table in the middle of camp, covered with pronghorn leather, Rune was sat, pointing out to the map of Lemoyne.

"Mr. Simmons here has told us about Shady Belle," Rune explained to his inner circle, "it's in the middle of the swamp, which means we need to be wary of the gators. Multiple approaches at the same time is probably best," Rune pointed with his pen to a small road leading into the plantation house. "Myself and Near will approach from the front. Aiden, you and Alice go through the swamp…"

"What, with the gators?" Aiden frowned.

"A bunch of reptiles don't scare you, do they?" Aiden grumbled something and fell quiet. "Luca, you and Lana hang back, take out the stragglers."

"I'm killing them," Luca replied firmly.

"No, you're going to keep your head. Ain't no use to us if you're dead on the ground, are you?" Luca remained quiet, looking away to the ground. "We all stick together, keep calm and move as a group, I reckon we'll come out of this just fine." Rune brushed his fingers over his lips, thinking carefully about the odds of whether this could turn out well. "Remember, we ain't there to kill and take revenge – we're just there to get our boy back. But, if push comes to shove, we shoot first."

"That's it, then?" Anna asked from behind them as she placed another arrow into the fur quiver that hung at her hip. "That's your grand plan?"

Rune's blue eyes flickered over to Near for a moment before he looked to Anna. "I reckon so."

Anna scoffed as she pulled her bow over her shoulder. "You're a damn idiot…"

"Anna!" Near gasped.

"He's an idiot!" Anna looked back to Rune. "You're making a plan about how to fight a man that you have _never_ met, and I've been hunting them for years, Rune. _Years_." The camp table fell silent as the four men examined the woman in front of them. "Don't you think that you shoulder perhaps ask me for my opinion?"

All eyes fell on Rune. His hand had clenched into a fist upon being a called an idiot and his nostrils were flared. A moment later, he spoke. "Very well," he said stiffly, standing up and gesturing to the map. "What should we know?"

Anna licked her lips and moved past the men, looking down at the map. Shady Belle… she'd seen it a dozen times by then, but never tried to attack it. There were just too many – even if she reused her arrows, they'd most likely break before she got in the same room with Isaiah. "Isaiah thinks God is on his side. But it's a tool – it's just something he says to try and get people on-side."

"_Deo vindice_," Rune nodded slowly.

"Huh?" Aiden frowned.

"God is with us," Luca said in his dulled voice. "Folk 'round these parts have been saying it for years…"

"S'what the Rebels said back in the war," Near explained.

"They're the Brotherhood of _Southern Crusaders_. Me and my people were Jewish, so they killed my family and they…" Anna fell silent for a moment before swallowing hard. "Isaiah's spent years building his control in Lemoyne, which means that…"

"Which means what?" Near asked in his usual growl.

"Which means that he won't give back Matty just because you tell him to." They all sighed. "It'd be a sign of submission for him."

"So, we kill him and _take_ Matty back-" Luca began.

"We can still stop this becoming a war, Luca," Rune said, trying to keep his tempers cool.

"They butchered Ava, and you think we can still _talk_ with them?" Luca looked up to Anna. "What do we do, then?"

Anna closed her eyes to steel herself. She knew how they'd react to this – especially because it was Matty they were talking about. But they just couldn't let their emotions get in the way of this. They were just _so_ close… "We have to consider the fact that Matty might not make it out of there alive-"

"We are _not_ giving up on our _brother_-"

"Aiden…" Rune said, keeping the boy quiet until Anna could finish.

"Isaiah's baiting us! He has numbers and a fortification- at Shady Belle, we're outgunned and outmatched. That's why they… did what they did to Ava. They want you angry and gunning for them."

Rune drummed his fingers on the pronghorn leather top before sighing. "I don't see any other option." Anna started to groan. "It doesn't matter if he wants us to come or not, we do _not_ leave our own behind."

"You aren't listening to me…"

"I _am_ listening, Miss Anna-"

"You're not!"

"Okay, fine, so what do we _do_?"

"I don't know, we…" Anna rubbed her temples and tried to keep her breathing even. "If Isaiah gets away, he'll only come back and he'll rebuild the Brotherhood. So… so we have to make sure that we kill _him_."

There was a loud scoff from the other side of Rune, where Aiden sat, clasping an open bottle of beer. "Great advice, that…"

"Aiden…" Near warned him.

"Oh, that's just blatantly clear to you, is it?" Anna asked curtly.

"Of course it's damn well clear to me!"

"Alright, settle down, you two…" Near tried once more.

"Oh, well, do you know that he has more men than us? More guns, dogs? How much of this is '_damn well clear_' to you? We need time to come up with a proper plan and get more people on-side, because if we go to Shady Belle with nothing but _your_ cocksure arrogance, Matty _will_ die-"

"Which people are you talking about?" Aiden shouted from across the table. "The Brotherhood work for the Davenports which means the law _won't_ help us, all of Rhodes will probably want us all dead!"

"We don't. Have. Enough," Anna snarled.

"I know!" Rune barked, stepping between the two with a hand on each hip. He shook his head. "I know we don't have enough people or guns but…" he shrugged. "That's all we got." He gestured to Aiden. "My boy's right, there ain't no-one that can help us." Aiden felt something warm in his chest, being called Rune's boy again. It was thought often enough by everyone in camp, but it wasn't something said often enough. Rune clenched his jaw and raised his voice, addressing everyone in the camp. "All of you… _all_ of you!" They all gathered around him, silent and waiting. "Those bastards…" he said quietly, pointing to the east. "Those bastards have taken our brother. Our _brother_! They killed Miss Ava and…" Rune's eyes fell on Charlotte for a moment, who stood behind Night's Hawk's leg. "Y'know, a long time ago, at Silver Bend, I…" Rune shook his head as the memories of melting flesh and mists of blood flashed through his mind. Rune swallowed as he took a step forwards, speaking low and fervently.

"I saw hundreds of women, children, old and young… all of them die. I saw my own men die. And I… I made my peace with that. I was ready to die that day." Rune's pale eyes slowly roved over his gang. His family. His army. "I prepared myself, but that never came. I survived the Battle of Silver Bend and I made a promise to myself that… that I wouldn't let that happen again. I would protect them as needed it, no _matter_ the cost." Rune took a breath, trying to steady himself. "We don't leave our own behind!" He shouted. "Whether it's a trap or not, Matty rides in this gang! He's one of us!" Rune shook his head. "I ain't letting them kill another one of us!" He picked up his stalker hat from the table and set it on his head. "Who's with me?"

"With you to the end, Rune," Aiden said, standing up without taking a breath since Rune finished speaking. "No matter what."

Luca nodded. "Whatever you need, Rune."

"With you, Rune!" Lana called.

Alice sauntered forwards, puffing on her cigarette. "Y'know me, I'm always ready to kill some gunfighters…"

"I'm coming as well," said the crisp English accent of Parker. Rune's eyes fell on the sweaty, skinny young man that swayed as he stood. "I ain't got long left, Rune, I want my people safe when it happens."

Rune knew he couldn't refuse Parker that. After all, Matty needed help and helping the gang was something Rune would never stand in the way of. Rune smiled to Parker and gave a slight nod. Anna walked towards Rune, tightly gripping her bow as she leant forwards to speak lowly. "If it's a choice between Matty and Isaiah, I will gladly leave your boy to die, every time."

Rune turned to call Parker over to get his gun with something cracked through the air. A shot. Rune immediately fell to the ground, scrambling for his gun as Aiden tipped the table forwards and falling behind it as more gunshots popped and snapped.

"Everyone, get into cover!" Rune shouted. He looked across to see Night's Hawk sweeping Charlotte up into his arms as he sprinted across camp, putting her beneath the carriage and nocking an arrow on his bow. "Aiden, son, you still alive?"

"Just about…" Aiden grunted, examining the cut on his shoulder as he reloaded his revolver. "What's our move?"

"Take a look…" Rune threw his hand out from cover and fired off his revolver while Aiden peered outside, failing to make out how many where shooting, but he could see them all from the treeline, advancing in sprints towards the camp.

"Alright, good few of 'em, I'd wager. At the treeline."

Rune nodded and glanced over to his tent. He could make out his rifle, but it was too far away. Parker, however, was right next to it… "Parker!" Rune shouted. "My rifle's on my cot!"

Parker nodded and left his cover, dashing into Rune's tent as bullets peppered the dirt around his feet. He made it inside well enough, emerging a second later with a rifle he held somewhat gingerly. As his blue eyes fell on Rune, another bullet cracked and Parker fell backwards, grabbing his shoulder as he began to bleed profusely.

Rune called out for him, trying to get to his feet as Aiden grabbed his shirt, holding him back behind the table. "Just… just wait!" Rune called across to Parker, who managed to push himself up onto his knees, crawling back to cover.

Another bullet cracked forwards Parker's arm buckled. His ear peeled forwards as his one of his blue eyes popped out, hanging by a nerve like a fish on a line. Parker's face was cut in two as he fell on the floor, his hand still loosely clutching the dark walnut of Rune's Springfield rifle.

"Jesus…" Rune murmured to himself as he watched Parker's blood spread across the dirt. The gunfire and shouting seemed to all… fade. All he could see was a man that had given all he had in a failing fight against his illness. What was left of his face was all that remained. He was just… not there.

Rune yelled and shrugged off Aiden, standing out of cover and firing at the approaching men. The entire gang grabbed their weapons as Rune charged forwards, letting out a roar of anguish and pain as he soared headlong through the barrage and hail of bullets and gunsmoke, emptying his revolvers and then tackling one of the men onto the floor.

It was chaos incarnate. Abuela slashed out with her butcher's knife, Alice used her revolver as a club, bludgeoning all that came within a foot of her. Luca and Lana fired their guns side-by-side, and when a bullet glanced off Lana's shoulder, Luca picked up her revolver, firing for her.

Night's Hawk and Anna flanked around the left, firing arrows at the snipers in the treeline that still harassed the fighters. Near slowly followed his gang into the war, clutching Rune's rifle and firing into the fray.

Rune tackled a man onto the floor, but when he grasped his throat, he realized it was no man, but more of a boy. Young and skinny, long-legged and pale-skinned. Waves of bright, golden brown hair tousled to the right and his amber eyes were full of fear as he saw Rune, covered in blood, raise the black steel knife, the brass engravings of skulls along the blade glinting in the moonlight…

Rune was suddenly hit by a force. A man, old and greying, had ran at full tilt and thrown his entire weight into Rune, sending him tumbling off the boy and rolling along the floor. The old man, who Rune recognized as Ambrose Davenport, got to his feet and raised his shotgun at Rune and, a moment later, it fired.

Rune Brody was still alive – the shotgun had fired into the air as Aiden had swept forwards and whacked the stock of his empty Lancaster into the man's face.

* * *

Alice swept across the bodies, firing bullets into the heads of the dying before rifling through their pockets. Night's Hawk retrieved his arrows and Father Elijah covered Charlotte's eyes, whispering prayers.

At the treeline, Ambrose Davenport and his young son were tied to the trees. Rune breathed deeply, his eyes set on Ambrose as he watched Lana lead Parker's horse which carried what remained of his body. Rune marched forwards towards Ambrose and raised a fist. Near went to step forwards, only to have Luca put an arm in front of Near.

"Let him," Aiden said lowly, looking back to Rune, who punched Ambrose over and over and over again.

Rune eventually subsided, panting as he pointed at Ambrose's swollen face. "You bastards…" he gasped, "have killed a man who only ever healed others. You killed a woman who was raising a _child_… You couldn't even let her have a proper goddamn burial…" Rune grabbed Ambrose's throat and began to squeeze.

"Rune!" Near barked, walking forwards to pull him away. "Rune, don't strangle the man to-"

"Did you shoot Parker?" Rune hissed. "Was it you?"

"Just- just stop it, okay?" The boy shouted from the other tree. "It was me, alright? It was me- I shot the negro."

Rune's hand suddenly relinquished Ambrose's wrinkled throat, head slowly turning towards the boy. "What did you just say?" He marched towards the boy. "What did you just goddamn say-"

"Leave it, Rune…" Near said, standing in front of the boy. "Don't kill for revenge, remember?"

Rune nodded and looked to Aiden. "You got that one, son?" Aiden frowned as he looked towards the boy… he'd met him some time ago at the cotillion – boasted by Shelby as being the best sharpshooter in Lemoyne. Christ, he could've only been seventeen or so.

"Rune, no, he's- he's just a boy…"

"He killed one of _us_!" Rune growled. "You know the rules." Aiden looked at Avery, whose lip began to quiver slightly as he looked towards his father. A boy, looking for help. Wasn't that who Aiden had been, all those years ago?

"Rune, I don't think we should-"

"Think? You're right, you _don't_ think!" Rune hissed. "You do what I goddamn tell you to! You're getting soft- letting some damn fool of a girl change you…"

"No, Rune, it ain't like that…"

"You're getting soft and I need you _strong_! All this goddamn hesitation…" Rune gestured to Avery. "I need you to know that _I_ know best! I need you with _me_!"

"I'm just sayin', I guess I don't think we need to-"

"No, _no_, don't you dare start twisting words with me, boy!" Rune hissed. "I just watched us lose two of our own to those bastards." Rune wrenched Aiden's revolver from his holster and shoved it into Aiden's hands. "You're with me or you ain't. Now which one is it?"

Aiden looked up to the scared boy, then to the revolver in his hand. Once again, Rune was putting the same gun in the same hand and telling him to take their own justice. But what else did he have? They'd kidnapped Matty, brutalized Ava and now killed Parker.

"Aiden," Near began softly, "son, you don't have to…"

A crack echoed through the forest as Aiden watched Avery slump down to his feet, looking at Ambrose. "Daddy?"

Ambrose's chest was bloodied, with a gaping hole where his heart would be. His head lolled onto his chest and he slid down the tree, crumpling on the floor as Avery sobbed. Aiden holstered his gun and looked into Rune's pale grey eyes.

"I'm with you to the end, no question, Rune, but I ain't shooting no kid," Aiden said firmly.

Rune nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. "Y'know, I agree with you son…" Rune said slowly as his eyes fell back on Avery. "But you know the rules…" Rune pulled the knife out of its sheathe and approached the boy, pointing the black tip of his hunting knife at the boy. Without a word, Rune grabbed the boy's mouth and used the knife to dig into the boy's face, gouging out his left eye. The boy screamed and howled in pain, his hands shaking violently as Rune twisted the knife further.

He finally removed it, wrenching Avery's pretty amber eye out and holding it up to the boy's one remaining eye. "Just like Parker…" Rune hissed, throwing the eyeball onto the floor. He gestured to Aiden with his knife. "You see this man? He's the reason why you're still breathing. Say 'thank you'." Avery still moaned, crying in pain. "Say 'thank you'!"

"Thank you," Avery sobbed.

Rune walked over to Aiden and Luca, looking Near up and down. "First, we take out the Brotherhood…"

"Inbred hicks…" Luca spat onto the floor.

"Then, we move onto the Davenports. Aiden," Rune glanced to the youngest man amongst them, "that girl tell you where they'll be?" Aiden licked his lips, glancing over to Avery and then dropping his gaze to the ground. The thought of that happening to Genevieve… "Anything, son?"

There was that word again. But where once Aiden had felt warmth and pride, now he felt the heavy burden of duty. Rune _was _his family. After all he'd given up, didn't Aiden owe him his loyalty, if nothing else? "There's a riverboat," Aiden said quietly. "She'll be on it tomorrow."

"Her family with her?"

Aiden shrugged. "Maybe."

"Good enough…" Rune clasped Aiden's shoulder. "Good to see you're back to your old self, son."

**So, like… that was a chapter and a half.**

**Also, someone thought that I killed off their character because they didn't review much – lemme just say, I'm not one of those authors. Fact is, I want you guys to review because hearing you talk about your thoughts for the story ****_really_**** helps me with the story, but also gives me crazy amounts of motivation. But, if you stop reviewing for whatever reason, I'm not going to stop using the character – if a character's well-written, I'll keep using them. Fact is that I've killed them off because… well, that's how all the famous outlaws went. **

**I'm glad to see you've all got strong opinions on what's happening. No doubt this'll be another one.**


	15. Absolve the Bullet and Its Gun

**So, y'know, there's only 2 more chapters after this… then it's an epilogue chapter, but yeah. Well, I might not include the epilogue… but maybe I will. We'll see how chapter 16 pans out.**

**Now, onwards with The Assault on Shady Belle…**

_Shady Belle, LE_

_12__th__ July, 1902_

No-one spoke on that ride. Through the dark night, with the waning moonlight reflected on the leaves, all black in the early morning. Nothing could be heard except the coyote's wails and the gang's hoofbeats.

Anna didn't know the gang too well, but what little she did know was that they weren't hardened killers. They weren't like her in that respect – they were kind to each other… maybe not Alice MacKenzie and Aiden McKneil, but the rest of them… they were a real family.

But as they road down the winding dirt road that led them towards the abandoned, hick-filled, former plantation house, she realized she wasn't riding with the same people. They were all hard-faced, riding fast and not sparing their horses.

Rune led the ride from the front, Near on his right. Behind them rode most of the gang; Luca and Lana, Alice and Ellie, then Night's Hawk and Anna, and right at the back was Aiden, cantering behind them with his Lancaster repeater drawn in his strong hand.

Anna had been dreaming of this. The day she'd finally kill the Brotherhood. Isaiah, Gareth, Titus, Lot, The Dogkeeper… she'd murder every single one of them. She didn't care if it damned her to Hell – she'd find them down there and kill them again.

Rune came to a halt and the rest of the gang followed suit. He dismounted, hitching his horse, Copper, to the trees and drawing his Springfield rifle from his saddle. Near grabbed his carbine repeater (as did Lana hers), Luca, his Litchfield, Alice, her double-barrelled shotgun while Ellie grabbed her semi-auto shotgun. Night's Hawk and Anna both drew their bows, following the march down to Shady Belle.

"I'm fixing to kill these inbred sons of bitches!" Luca growled.

"Keep your head, son," Near warned Luca.

"No, _embrace_ that fire, brother," Rune hissed. "We'll rain hellfire on these bastards!"

"We didn't come here for revenge…" Near reminded Rune.

"It's _justice_, not revenge." Rune muttered to himself, "I'm seeing it clear now…"

* * *

Gareth Maxwell was sitting on the steps of the house, rubbing the brown beard he'd been growing on his jaw for a few months. In the moonlight, he saw a line of nine folk, all marching down the dirt path towards him, rifles in hand.

"Titus! Lot!" Gareth barked as he pushed himself off the stairs and grabbed his worn shotgun, pumping a shell into the chamber as he eyed the outsiders.

He recognized two of them – the red-haired Scotswoman who'd almost blinded Titus and the dark-haired mick that'd given him a hiding. Gareth walked forwards with his own men, leaning his shotgun on his shoulder.

"What're bunch of carpet-baggers doin' round these parts?" Gareth drawled as he eyed them approach. A dark-haired man Gareth recognized as D'Angelo took a step forwards, only to be held back by an old man – a black man.

"We've come for our man," The man in the centre of the gang, right at the front, came to a halt a few metres away, clasping his rifle in both hands. "We want Matty Donnelly back!"

"Matty Donnelly…" Gareth tapped his lip in thought. "Ain't ringin' no bells…"

"Hand him over," the man called back.

Gareth sniggered to himself, casting his eyes across each of them until glimpsing a woman at one end. A slim woman, standing half a foot shorter than the man speaking and… nice, he supposed? Maybe that was the word – she had a _nice_ face.

The doors opened from Shady Belle and Gareth's smile immediately vanished. He hung his head as his father, Isaiah walked out.

Isaiah had _heard_ of the infamous Rune Brody who'd supposedly killed hundreds of redskins some years ago. If nothing else, Isaiah had a begrudging admiration for the man – after all, he had done the same work, even if he had become misguided. That being said, Isaiah wasn't much in the habit of admiring carpet-baggers.

A drop of rain splattered onto Isaiah's cheek. He looked up to hear the thunder rumble and smiled.

"You the leader of this gang?" Rune asked.

Isaiah looked back to Rune, head cocked to the side. A pack of dogs started growling. Isaiah looked to his right and saw the four dogs that padded forwards, canine teeth bared as the man with a scarred face moved forwards, his messy, uneven braids sticking to his cheeks as he let out small barks with a twisted grin. The biggest dog was a black shepherd bitch, followed by a mastiff brown bitch. Then there was the bloodhound, all grey and shaggy, and lastly, there was a rottweiler, which had leapt in front of his master and was barking viciously, jumping forwards and backwards.

Ellie clutched her shotgun tightly. Anna's fingers stroked the raven-feather fletching of her arrow.

"Y'all the bastards been givin' me trouble?" Isaiah asked. "'Cos I got a _hell_ of a lotta trouble…"

"So you _are_ the leader of these hicks?" Rune's blue-grey eyes scanned each of the Crusaders with contempt.

Isaiah snickered. "Y'all see here, boys, that there's some real Yankee pride…" Isaiah crossed his arms.

Rune glanced to the old black man on his left before he looked back to Isaiah. "I don't have no Yankee accent."

"Sure ya do." Isaiah smirked. "I killed me a _lotta_ Yankees… recognize 'em anywhere, no question."

Rune's jaw clenched. "I want our man back," Rune hissed through his teeth.

"Too bad," the Dogkeeper grinned, "m'dogs wan'him as'ell…" A half-crazed cackle clawed its way out of his lips. The young man on Rune's other side took a step forwards, shifting his repeater into his right hand. Gareth mimicked the movement and they all waited, ready to take aim.

"Whatever dispute you have with us… no matter what harm we have done you… what you did to Ava," Rune struggled with the words, his brow stitching itself together in anger and sorrow as he let out a yell, "there are _rules_!" He cried out suddenly, pointing at Isaiah. "There are things that you just do _not_ do!"

Isaiah licked his lips as he searched the gang for anyone who might pose a credible threat. His eyes lingered on the girl at the end for a moment… a pretty face, with lovely dark blonde hair… Isaiah liked blonde hair. He liked to imagine what her hair was like around her cunt – maybe he would find out once this fight was done. Isaiah's eyes roved over her lithe body, her ample bosom, her ass… well, he wasn't one to engage in sodomy, but perhaps God would pardon him this one indiscretion… after all, he didn't want a bastard running around… Gareth was disappointing enough.

"Did you hear me?" Rune hissed. Isaiah turned back to him, frowning slightly.

"Well, damn your rules…" Isaiah said, clasping his gunbelt buckle. "And damn you."

Rune licked his lips, turning to his gang before speaking once again. "If you do not bring Matty Donnelly out here right now, we're going to have a problem."

Isaiah grinned, his eyes flitting back to the blonde woman at the end. "And what do I care if we have a problem?" He scoffed.

"'Cos there's gonna be a lot of folk dead out here if we do," Rune replied.

Isaiah's mouth twitched into a curious smile. "This is _my_ state, Brody. _My_ land, _my _home. My daddy died for it, I bled in the mud for it… if y'all think all my boys died only for me to yield to some…" Isaiah scoffed. "Some crusty bunch of injuns and dagos and greaser, nigger-loving paddies like y'selves…" Isaiah let out a chuckle. He turned around to see the doors to the balcony of the plantation house open, and the rest of his gang sully outside, rifles and repeaters at the ready. "God's on our side, Brody. The _real _God."

"Okay…" Rune sighed, hanging his head.

Aiden flexed his fingers at the white grip of his Cattleman revolver and dragged his right foot across the dirt. Near pushed up the brim of his brown leather hat, brown eyes settling on the men on the balcony as he tightened his hand around his carbine repeater. Lana popped the loop of her holster off of the steel hammer of her revolver. Alice clicked back the hammers of her shotgun. Luca clicked the lever of his Litchfield repeater, chambering a round. Anna's fingers gently grazed the feather fletching of an arrow in her quiver. Night's Hawk's hand rested on the birch wedge of the tomahawk that hung at his belt, his fingers closing around the steel head.

Rune looked up at Isaiah. "Give him my regards."

Rune drew his revolver and took aim, firing a bullet that soared through Isaiah's shoulder and pinned him to the ground. Aiden drew first, fanning his revolver at two men while Luca and Near began to fire from the hip, walking forwards as they unleashed a barrage of bullets upon several members of the Brotherhood, sending the rest scrambling for cover.

Aiden grabbed Rune out of the way of a bullet and both ducked behind an old wagon. Aiden holstered his revolver before pulling his Lancaster from his back and dashing to join Luca and Near.

"Lana!" Rune shouted over the gunfire, "Take the girls and flank them 'round the back!" Rune loaded another round into his rifle. "These bastards ain't getting away…"

Alice pulled Ellie towards Lana, all three of them skirting around the swamp water, keeping low and pausing every now and again to make sure no-one noticed them.

Anna kept low and ran around the gunfire, pulling her bow over her shoulder in one fluid motion and leaping forwards to grab onto the vines that hugged the wooden walls of the house like liana in the jungle. She climbed like a like a spider on a web, with each limb testing a vine's strength before she would fully pull herself up.

While everyone was fighting, Night's Hawk hooked around the other side of the manor, bow drawn as he stalked through the darkness, leafy green eyes alert and darting across every shadow.

As soon as he saw one grey-haired man clad in a dishevelled confederate uniform run around, carbine repeater drawn, Night's Hawk drew his arrow back fully, finding the anchor as the fletching grazed the corner of his lip and soared forwards, shooting almost completely through his throat. He ran forwards, wrenching the arrow from the man and continuing on.

Around the front of the house, Near let out a yell as a bullet whizzed into the kneecap of his bad leg. He dropped his rifle and fell down, hand clutching the blood that pumped out of his leg.

Aiden grabbed Near's arm and dragged him into one of the many trenches that sat in front of Shady Belle.

"Near, you're…" Aiden looked at the knee – he didn't have a damn clue what he was doing. "You're okay, don't you worry… give me your arm-" Aiden tried to lift Near, but the old man slapped Aiden's hand away.

"Get off, I ain't no damn Nancy…" he groaned.

"Aiden!" Rune shouted from the wagon. "Leave him- you look inside, Luca, meet up with the women and check there!"

Aiden nodded, taking his repeater and handing it to Near, giving him a slap on the shoulder and drawing both of his revolvers, running inside the plantation house as Luca made his way around the house.

In the distance, shotguns fired and Luca smiled to himself – Alice and Ellie had decided to make their move.

* * *

Aiden kicked open the door, fanning his revolver as he glanced around. "Matty!" He shouted, swapping to his steel Packenbush, emptying the cylinder into the legs of a Crusader that come down the stairs. "Matty! Where are you, you little Irish bastard…" Aiden grunted as he made his way upstairs, reloading his revolvers.

He'd loaded one when a Crusader flew down the stairs, throwing Aiden against the wall and fumbling for his knife. Aiden headbutted the man one, two, three times and then drew his own knife and burying it deep into the man's side with a yell.

All was silent up on the second story of the house. Aiden wiped his knife against his thigh before drawing his Cattleman revolver. He glanced to a set of double doors and closed a hand around the handle, finding it was locked. There was a massive crack and a hole appeared in the door next to Aiden's head. He fell backwards, landing hard on his back and scrambling away behind the wall as the shotgun cracked a second time.

"Shit…" Aiden rolled away towards another doorway and fell through it as the shotgun cracked again. He looked up to see himself on a stained yellow carpet, by a small table and a set of double doors, leading to the room he was shot at from.

"I'm-a kill all y'all!" the man from inside shouted.

Aiden pushed himself to his feet and kicked open the doors, taking aim and firing a round into one man's head and another's heart. There, tied to a pastel-yellow armchair in the corner, was Matty. He was bloodied and beaten with one eye swollen shut and a chunk of his lip torn away, but he was alive.

"Matty, you-" Aiden ran over and holstered his gun, pulling out his knife to cut the ropes from Matty's wrists.

"Yous took your time, McKneil…" Matty groaned.

Aiden forced a smile. "Just seeing how well you can take a beating…"

"Oh, aye? And?"

Aiden looked at Matty, watching the skin starting to peel away, exposing his dried gums and teeth. "I've seen better…"

"Have you, fuck!"

One of Matty's hands came free, but a second later, Aiden was thrown forwards. His face smashed into the wooden wall and he fell onto the ground, groaning as he looked around, dazed.

Titus grabbed Aiden by the scruff of his neck and threw him across the room. Aiden hit a table and rolled along the floor, shaking his head and slowly rising to his feet.

"Y'all got a score with me," Titus grunted. "Shouldn't have hit me in that saloon, Paddy…"

"I'll do a lot worse now!" Aiden went to draw his revolver, but a tin ashtray was chucked across the room, hitting him in the eye. Aiden groaned, firing his gun wildly as Titus grabbed Aiden's hand, smacking it against the wall until his revolver clattered across the floor. Aiden drew his Packenbush revolver, which clicked empty. Aiden was thrown through the door he'd come through and stood up, his bones aching and lips soaked with blood. "I beat you once, you goddamn animal…" Aiden wiped his mouth and raised his fists.

"I'll be sure to leave a part o' y'all for Lot…" Titus raised his own fists. "Carve you up like the whore…"

Aiden rushed forwards, trying to tackle Titus, but the man was like a brick wall. He just stood there, a hulking mass of muscle. He swung a fist at Aiden, who tried to catch it with both hands, gritting his teeth as Titus swung his arm around, throwing Aiden back into the room.

He stumbled backwards, grabbing an old gas lantern and throwing it at the man, but missing horribly. Aiden ran towards the knife, which lay by Matty's feet, but he was caught by the scruff of the neck and thrown onto the floor. Titus grabbed him by the throat and began to squeeze.

"She squealed when I was inside her," Titus snarled, "split her open. Y'all gon' squeal as well?" He leant closer and then let out a mighty roar of pain, reeling back from Aiden.

Matty was clambering onto Titus' back, plunging Aiden's knife into his shoulders over and over again while cussing and cursing loudly. Aiden groaned, his head spinning until his eyes caught the bright glint of his Packenbush revolver a few feet away. He began to crawl towards the gun, looking over to see Matty and Titus wrestling with the knife.

"You bastard…" Matty grunted as he tried to push the knife away from his chest. A moment later, Titus let out a grunt, and the knife slowly slid into Matty's chest, making his let out a pained gasp as he looked down to see the knife drive further into him.

Titus tore the knife from Matty and threw him to the ground, where the young man looked down at the blood on his chest and frowned, looking up at his friend, somewhat confused.

"Matty," Aiden groaned, "stay with us, y'hear?"

"Well, Paddy," Titus drawled as he walked towards Matty, brandishing the knife, "y'know, I gotta say…" he grabbed Matty's hair and raised his broken face, whispering into his ear. "The pleasure's all mine."

Matty's good eye grew wide and before he could open what remained of his mouth, Titus slid the knife across his neck, freeing a thick coat of scarlet blood. Matty's face quickly became pale as his eye lost focus and he slowly fell to the floor, his hand trying desperately to close the wound in his neck until he fell still.

The breath vanished from Aiden's lungs as he saw Matty's shirt become consumed by blood. It came closer to him, touching his fingers as he took a shaking breath. The knife glinted and Aiden's hazel eyes flitted towards the revolver that lay just out of reach. He scrambled forwards as Titus leapt for him. His fingers brushed the grip of the gun. Titus' hand clasped his ankle. He dragged the gun back with him. Titus flipped him over. Aiden cocked back the hammer. "Goddamn you-" He pulled the trigger.

A click. Another click. A third.

Titus grinned at the revolver and pointed the knife, still wet with Matty's blood, at Aiden. "Well, how 'bout that?" He chuckled. He pulled back the knife as Aiden fumbled with a bullet from his belt.

An arrow soared through the room and plunged into Titus' heart. A second stuck into his shoulder, a third in his throat. He fell back, wheezing for a moment before falling silent. Aiden looked back to see Anna standing there, nocking another arrow as she walked inside the room, looking around. "Damn hillbillies…" She muttered to herself. Her eyes on Matty's remains. "Matt…"

Aiden looked over to Matty's body, resting his hands on his bloodied neck and trying not to whimper as he wiped away the sweat from his forehead with his wrist. "I tried," Aiden gave out a shuddering breath, "I swear, I tried…"

Anna swallowed hard. She wouldn't let this get to her. She knew this would happen. It didn't change things – she'd gone there to kill Isaiah and that's what she was going to do. Aiden's hand grabbed a fistful of Matty's red hair. Matty had been seven years older than Aiden (give or take), but in a lot of ways, he was like a little brother. Always with a smile on his face, Matty'd never lost the kid in him.

* * *

Rune watched as they corralled the living together. Isaiah Maxwell and his son, Gareth, and the Dogkeeper, inconsolable as his dogs lay strewn across the mud, blown apart by shotgun shells.

The doors kicked open and Aiden stormed out, walking towards Gareth, who was barely a man, and grabbing him by the neck, forcing him to his feet.

"Son, what're ya-" Near began, but Rune sat him back down and followed Aiden with Luca, drawing their revolvers.

Aiden marched Gareth up the stairs and threw him into the largest bedroom, where Rune and Luca saw the body of Matty on the floor.

"Matty…" Luca murmured, holding his forehead before covering his mouth in utter shock. First Ava, then Parker, now Matty… Luca turned and walked straight out of the room, seemingly unable to bear another burden.

Rune's hard, pale eyes fixed on the body of a man he'd helped raise. Someone he'd taken in. Ira, Holt, Ava, Parker, Matty… all of them had believed in him. And even when they'd come here to rescue him…

Rune's jaw clenched. He faced Aiden and pointed at Gareth. "Deal with him," he growled as he drew his revolver. "Bring him outside. _Alive_!" Rune walked down the stairs as Aiden grabbed Gareth by the neck and punched him in the face before kneeling him beside Matty's corpse.

"Clean it up," Aiden snarled.

"Wha- I don't…" Gareth spluttered, but Aiden grabbed the back of his neck and forced his face into Matty's blood.

"He's one of us," Aiden's hand clenched around Gareth's neck as he hissed into his ear, "I want to look our family in the eye and say you cleaned up every drop of his precious blood!"

"I don't-" Gareth sobbed. Aiden kicked him to the wall and drew his knife.

"You do it or I'll rip your damn heart out, boy."

Gareth's lip quivered as he pulled off his yellow neckerchief and began to rub at Matty's blood. Seeing this… it just made Aiden angrier. He wanted him to disobey – he wanted to hurt him. He kicked him across the room again and grabbed him by the throat as he moved the knife closer. "Y'know what happens to folk who shoot at us?" He moved the tip of the knife closer to Gareth's eye.

Rune was beating Isaiah so much that his knuckles may have started to dislodge. The skin had cracked and Isaiah was covered in blood, his cheek split open. He looked to see Anna standing there, eyes fixed on the man he beat. Rune dropped Isaiah to the ground and pointed at Anna.

"Come here," Rune ordered her. She stayed still, shoulders tensed up. "Come _here_!" Rune barked.

Anna took a few tentative steps forwards and Rune pulled out his black knife, offering it to her. She gripped the knife and approached the gang leader. "I've spent years hunting you," she said quietly. "Every day, I'd say your name to myself and imagine killing you." Her hand closed around his throat. "I want you to feel all the pain I've felt…"

Isaiah let out a small scoff. "Have we met?" He sneered.

Anna's hand clenched around the knife as she leant in, searching his small eyes for any semblance of recognition. The bastard didn't even remember her. No… no, death was too good. Over in a second – she would hurt him until he remembered her. She'd visit her wrath upon him, ten times the pain he'd given her. "I won't give you peace," she muttered, pulling the knife away from his throat. "You killed my family, I…"

Isaiah grinned at her, showing his broken teeth, covered in blood. "You're a coward…" he murmured.

Isaiah's smile quickly evaporated as he heard yelling come from the house. He looked up to see his son being dragged by his hair through the doors by the young Irishman. As Gareth was thrown down next to him, Isaiah could clearly see that his son was missing an eye.

"Pa," Gareth cowered next to him.

"You…" Isaiah's voice began to tremble in rage. "You goddamn ingrates-"

"Your whole gang," Rune said loudly, "your little fortress, the Davenports…" He held out his hands. "What good did it do?"

Isaiah licked his lips before spitting the words at Rune. "I know that God will greet me in heaven, Brody. But y'all? No… no, y'all are all common scum-"

"We are outlaws who-"

"Y'all're killers, Brody! That's all y'all are – all _any_ of y'all are…"

Rune tore his gun from his holster, wrapping his hand around the bloodied hilt and pressing the barrel to Isaiah's forehead, breathing heavily. He was close… so close to blowing a damn hole in the man's head. But that _would_ make him a killer, wouldn't it? Killing a man with his hands tied – a prisoner. He… he could keep his temper.

Rune holstered his gun. "I am a man… seeking something… an idea that-"

"Don't matter," Isaiah chuckled, "all of us are wanted men. Only difference is that _I_ am on a holy crusade-"

"No, no you ain't…" Rune shook his head.

"-like the knights before me-"

"No, you ain't…" Rune's voice grew a little louder.

"And _you_ are low-down criminals-"

"Shut up!"

"-of the basest form, y'all gon' burn in hell-"

"_Shut up_!" Rune's hands locked around Isaiah's neck. "You're as rotten as the rest of them!" Rune hissed at the man's face. "The law, the Pinkertons, the Davenports- you're all goddamn _bastards_!" He yelled. "You've taken my son, my daughter, now you'll try to damn us? Damn me now!" Rune's hands squeezed even tighter. "Damn me now!" He shouted once again.

Anna had imagined Isaiah's death every night for years. But this wasn't… this wasn't even an execution, it was a murder. But as she saw the light leaving his eyes, Anna just felt as though… as though it was the last part of her life. Her family, her brothers – it was all slipping away from her so quickly. She took a step forwards, only to be pushed back by Luca.

Gareth tried to move forwards to do… well, to do anything he could, but a swift punch from Alice kept him in place. The look on his face; pain, horror and utter helplessness. Was that how Anna had looked, all those years ago?

Isaiah dropped to the floor, lifeless, as Rune slowly rose back up to his full height, sweeping his sweated hair back from his face.

"I'm gon' kill y'all for that…" Gareth sobbed as snot dripped from his nose.

"Revenge, boy," Rune said breathlessly as he drew his revolver once again, "ain't nothing good ever come outta revenge…" He cocked back the hammer and raised the revolver at the boy's head.

"Rune!" Near barked, limping in front of Gareth. "What're you doing?"

"What do you think?"

"We don't kill boys-"

"He's old enough."

"We _don't_ kill boys."

"Near, let him do this," Aiden said sternly.

"You'd protect _them_?" Rune scowled.

"This ain't how we do things," Near insisted.

"How many of us have they killed?" Rune shouted.

"That don't make it right!"

"Now you defend them? Now you-"

"I'm defending a kid, Rune!"

"-You betray _me_?"

Rune raised his revolver squarely at Near's chest. "I'm firing this gun, old man, so you best step clear outta the way."

Near was calm and collected. He didn't move at all apart from the shaking of his shorn head. "I ain't moving, Rune."

Luca looked to Rune. "Let's think-"

"You're standing against me, brother?" Rune asked quietly, eyes intently set on Near, who shook his head.

"I ain't never gon' stand 'gainst ya, Rune, but… I ain't gon' let you shoot a kid, that's for sure."

Rune's eyes flitted to the rest of the gang. Three of them had died in a single day… that was enough, surely? If folk were going to die, it wasn't going to be more of his own. "Truss the boy up," Rune ordered the gang. "Near, do what you will with the boy- Aiden!" He pointed over to the Dogkeeper. "Bring that one with me."

* * *

In the depths of the bayou, there was always sound. Crickets and madmen howling with the gentle rippling of water. A thick fog was evermore present there. Flies buzzed around, sticking to the sweat upon one's neck.

Rune and Aiden ambled forwards on their horses, dragging the Dogkeeper along by his feet on the end of a rope. They'd been riding for about half an hour.

They hitched the reins of their horses to a tree and cut the rope from the Crusader's feet, pulling him up to his feet and marching him forwards in Aiden's lantern light into the bayou. "Keep walking…" Rune pushed the Dogkeeper forwards.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Shut the hell up!" Rune snarled, pushing the Dogkeeper forwards until they came to a thick sludge of mud and grass. In the water, reflected in the lanternlight, were two pairs of eyes. Aiden took a step back, hand on the hilt of his revolver as his breath was caught in his throat.

"No…" the Dogkeeper turned around to run past Rune but was pushed back towards them. "I'll tell y'all anything- it was the Davenports. They told us a hundred dollars for each of y'all heads-"

"I don't want to know anything," Rune replied calmly as he began to walk back to Aiden.

"I thought we didn't do revenge," Aiden said quietly. Rune turned around to face him, confused and frustrated.

"You don't think well, do you, son?" Rune growled, pointing to the Dogkeeper. "_He_ is our enemy! If we don't kill him, he will surely kill us- you think he's the type to walk away?" Rune spoke lowly in Aiden's ear. "Think about Matty. About Ava, Parker…" Rune gritted his teeth upon saying the name. "If he gets out of here alive, you're pissing on their memories…"

Aiden swallowed hard as he turned back to the Dogkeeper and drew his Cattleman revolver. "That's it, boy," The Dogkeeper yapped, "yeah, just shoot me! I set my dogs on your mick, didn't I? Just… just shoot me in the head now!"

That was enough. Aiden raised his revolver and shot the Dogkeeper in the kneecap, letting him fall to the water and watch it turn red as the water rippled once more. The eyes became brighter as the Dogkeeper looked up at the two men.

"Please," the Dogkeeper cried, "please, not the gators…"

"C'mon, son," Rune said, taking the lantern from Aiden, "Matty can rest now."

Aiden turned away from the sobbing Dogkeeper and followed Rune back to the road, hearing the splashing and crying and hissing echo across the swamp. "We done now, Rune?" Aiden asked hollowly, knowing the answer.

"Absolve the bullet and its the gun, brother," Rune mounted Copper, "but condemn he who first pulled the trigger."

**So… another lengthy chapter. Only a couple more left.**

**This one kinda got away from me, but there we are… another bloody chapter done. So, leave a review with your thoughts and feelings and the like… any general verbal insults are kinda expected at this point… three main characters in three chapters… unless we're counting Isaiah, Titus and the Dogkeeper, then it's six characters… who called me 'Rouge R. R. Martin' again?**

**Yeah, I don't know when the next chapter will be up… weekend, most likely? I just graduated uni, so… I'm struggling to find a job for now. Anyway, keep tuned and you can expect at least 3 more chapters coming.**

**R.**


	16. A Funny Happenstance

**Almost at the end, guys. You're all wondering how things are gonna tie up and, well, I don't think anyone's hit the nail on the head just yet… I listened to the Button Down Brass Band cover of 'Tequila' for when things got… exciting here.**

**Anyhoo, here's the next chapter – ****_A Funny Happenstance_****.**

_Rhodes, Scarlett Meadows, LE_

_11__th__ July, 1902_

The sun was rising when Sam Washington rode on the wagon with Old Man Mercer, who was still recovering from the beating he'd received at the hands of the Davenport's thug. It was the last of their cattle they'd sold – all for a couple hundred dollars. It would've been a good price if they could buy more cattle, but everything they made was going directly to the Davenports. Sam didn't know how they'd make money and, if he was being honest, he didn't think Mercer knew either.

* * *

Shelby plucked a bottle of moonshine from the crate on his bar and uncorked it, bringing the glass to his nose and sniffing, closing his eyes and smiling. "Is that… raspberry I'm smelling?" He asked, looking at the man that sat against the bar, chewing tobacco and shrugging. "And… thyme, perchance?" The man continued to chew with an open mouth. "Ah, curse you and your eternal silence, Leonardo, you truly do keep me on my toes…" Shelby poured himself a glass and gestured to his bartender, who picked up the crate and began to stock away the glasses. "So, that's, what… twenty dollars?" Shelby asked Leonardo, who remained silent, still chewing. "Oh, okay, you rascal – twenty-five!" He waved a hand to the bartender and then walked down to one of the booths, lying down and drinking from his bottle.

What a God-given nectar, rendering him to his stupor of fevered dreams and wanton temptations… it was a beverage that lifted him up into transcendent euphoria… or perhaps that was just the opium.

Shelby closed his eyes and was about to drift into a dream of a memory of several men that lay about in a room clouded with opium smoke, half-naked and vacant, when he heard a gunshot crack inside the room.

He leapt up, rubbing his head and crumpling into a foetal position when he heard a grizzled chuckle. Opening his eyes, Shelby saw none other than Thomas Cooper standing there, laughing, as he holstered his silver Schofield.

"Oh," Shelby pouted, pushing himself up to his feet, "aren't you just the poster-boy for a gung-ho attitude…"

"What?" Shelby frowned with a large smile.

"Spend a little time in Saint Denis," Shelby spat the words at him before snatching up his bottle of shine, "or read a book!"

"Reading rots the brain." Thomas shrugged. "For someone who fucks like a woman, you sure sulk like a child."

"While you talk like a Neanderthal and look like a troglodyte," Shelby slurred, leaning on the bar. "Trust the limey to talk about fucking women and children sulking in the same sentence."

Shelby pulled a cigarette out of his carton and sat it between his lips, masked by his bushy grey beard. "I don't know what that means…"

"Nor do I, but it means something!" Shelby swept his hair back and breathed deeply. "Why are you intruding on my sanctuary? Have you come to put a gun in my mouth again? Or…" Shelby slowly turned around, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Shut up," Cooper groaned.

"Make me." Shelby sipped his moonshine.

"No-one can find your brother."

"Which one?"

"Ambrose."

"Ah…" Shelby put the glass down. "Big bad Ambie… he's probably with the Brotherhood- speaking of…" Shelby pointed to the wall of his saloon. "Why is there blood on my walls?"

Thomas Cooper seemingly hadn't heard him. "He's not with the Brotherhood. Last we heard, he went out with some of the retainers to see to the Brody Boys…"

"Rotten shame, that…" Shelby said, somewhat disappointed. He'd found them so amusing… though it was nothing a bit of moonshine couldn't fix – like ointment for a burn.

"Mr. Floyd is to come to town and repay his debts. As Mr. Davenport is busy with the riverboat this evening, I've come to tell you-"

"Yes, yes, yes…" Shelby waved a hand. "I'll meet the old codger – anything else?" Shelby walked towards the bar and took a bottle of shine for himself. "Oh, you're gon'… okay."

Thomas made his way towards the door. "He's to arrive at twelve o'clock by the general store."

* * *

At high noon, Rune and Aiden walked down the high street of Rhodes. Aiden kept his hand close to his revolver as his eyes darted across all the windows. So many places for snipers and riflemen to be hiding in – if the Davenports knew that they were coming…

"Alright…" Rune murmured as the leant against a pole outside the undertaker's. "Keep an eye out, son, we don't want them to be slipping away any time soon…" Rune glanced to him, "you'll recognize this fella?" Aiden responded with a curt nod. "You alright, son?"

"Fine."

Rune narrowed his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the doors of the buildings. He pulled out his pipe and began to stuff it with tobacco as Aiden pulled a cigarette from his carton, the two of them sharing a match.

Aiden turned away to breathe out a puff of smoke and saw, walking down the street, a schoolteacher and a gaggle of schoolkids. Aiden licked his lips as he looked back to the general store, watching the door open and none other than Shelby Davenport exit with a handful of Davenport retainers.

"Guess Roy's on the boat already…" Rune muttered. "Bit early, isn't it?" He slapped Aiden on the shoulder and the two of them walked across the street. Rune's pale grey-blue eyes were fixed on Shelby as he marched forwards, watching the Davenport greet an old man and his boy. Aiden went astray and stopped following Rune, walking towards the schoolteacher and catching her gaze. Aiden gripped the engraved pearl grip of his Cattleman and shook his head ever so slightly.

The woman looked from him to his gun and then back to the kids. "Children…" She cleared her throat. "Children, let's go, we'll see the buffalo another day…" She turned around and began to corral them, moving them in the other direction. "We'll see- we'll go and see the fish !"

Shelby turned his attention towards the crowd of schoolchildren being led away and his eyes fell on Rune as he approached. "Ah, Mr. Brody…" Shelby opened his arms as his retainers drew their rifles from their backs, which made Rune bite his lip and cuss under his breath. Shelby's eyes ran across the dark walnut shotgun that was pulled over Rune's shoulder. "My, my, my, you're expecting a fight, aren't you?"

"Always," Aiden said as he walked to Rune's right, closest to the general store.

"We've some business to attend to after this, pertaining to your brother," Rune explained as he paced around to the right, watching the Davenports circle to the left.

Shelby's eyes lingered on Rune for little more than a moment with a slight smile before he looked back to Aiden. "I do enjoy your company, Mr. McKneil, I find you very amusing but…" He held his hands up, palms facing them. "Business _is_ business. You understand…"

"Sure…" Aiden grunted.

"Ain't that a funny happenstance?" Rune scoffed. "See, this ain't _just_ business for us. You boys killed three of us." Rune's hand clenched into a fist. "Y'know, if you promise to run back to Rune, tell him he's a son of a bitch and if he starts running, maybe we won't kill him."

Shelby let out a loud laugh, slapping his leg. "Yes, _yes_! _That_'s what I'm going to miss…" He let out a loud, theatrical sigh. "Roy wants y'all dead, Mr. Brody and… well, he gets what he wants. Y'all won't be leaving her alive – y'all and ya fabulously intriguing intriguing protégé."

Rune watched the Davenports line up outside the gun store, fighting his lip's curl. "Y'know I gotta fight back, right?"

"Oh, I'd expect nothing less from you and Mr. McKneil."

"No, see… see, we didn't come here alone," Rune informed Shelby. "See, we're going to wipe you all out…" Aiden felt his throat tighten. "Yeah, that's why we've brought her…" Rune gestured to the side of the Sheriff's office, where Anna emerged, her bow at the ready with an arrow nocked. "Y'know, 'tween me and her, we've killed a lotta folk."

Shelby scoffed, turning to his own troupe of three riflemen before looking at the three raggedy-looking individuals in front of him. "I like my chances…"

"Well, then…" Rune shrugged, looking to Aiden. "Well, I guess there's nothing left to do, but-" Rune drew his revolver and fired, hitting the gun store behind Shelby. Before they could return fire, there was an awful crash, and the door to the gun store was kicked open. Walking out of it and onto the porch was Ellie, Alice, Lana and Luca, all with their repeating rifles.

Shelby let out a small 'oh' as the entire gang began firing from all sides, ripping Shelby Davenport and his retainers apart. The retainers all yelled out, their rifles firing wildly up and down the street as their blood burst across the red clay of Rhodes as Shelby Davenport's precious clothes and fine jewellery was blown across the street. He let out a ragged breath, unsure of what was happening. Rune loaded another bullet into his revolver and fired it into Shelby's head.

"Well…" Rune holstered his revolver. "That's Ambrose and Shelby… just Roy and his family left to deal with-" Rune was interrupted by a loud shouting.

* * *

"Mercer!"

Sam fell at the body of the old man, his hands shaking as they touched the bleeding mess in Merer's stomach. He let out a loud gasp as blood dripped from beneath his shirt and down his shoulders, onto his neck.

"A bullet…" Mercer gasped in a frail voice. "I've survived nine gunshots, and it's this one…"

"No, I'm…" Sam looked over his shoulder at the group of seven strangers – a redskin accompanied by three women and men. "Help me," Sam pleaded with them.

"Sam," croaked the old man, his old, wrinkled hand clenching tightly around Sam's.

"C'mon, Mercer," Sam said in his cracked, fourteen-year-old voice, "c'mon, we need to… we still need to pay that debt!"

One of the men walked forwards. His hair was greying, his blue-grey eyes squinting down at the poor fella. He crouched down to look at Mercer's gunwound, then looked back up to his face. "That's going to take a while," The stranger murmured.

"Yeah…"

The man plucked Mercer's revolver from his holster, but Mercer laid a hand on it, shaking his head. "Y'all-" Mercer paused to cough. "Y'all take care of my boy?"

The man swallowed hard and gave a firm nod.

"Rune…" A voice warned. Sam looked over his shoulder to see a man standing there – more than ten years older than himself. He recognized the broad shoulders, the brown leather hat… it was the rotten man that'd beaten Mercer half-to death.

"Sam," Mercer murmured. Sam turned back to see his eyes closing gently. "I'll be with you, boy. I will." And with that, Mercer fell silent.

Rune removed his hat and looked over to the young boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What's your name, boy?"

"Sam… Sam Washington."

"You wanna hurt these bastards, Sam Washington?"

"I thought you said you didn't look for revenge," Ellie Colt frowned.

"This ain't _about_ revenge," Rune snapped, rising to his feet. "They attacked _us_! They killed three of _us_! If we don't finish the rest of them off, they will _surely_ come after us!"

"Not to mention we already got one rich family after us…" Luca raised an eyebrow, glancing to Aiden.

"Shouldn't Near get a say?" Ellie asked quietly.

"Near isn't here because these bastards got him shot!" Rune replied, rubbing his forehead dry as he calmed himself down. "We're taking it to a vote. All in favour?"

Rune, Luca, Lana and Alice all raised their hands. Rune gave Ellie a glare before looking to Anna. "Problem?"

"I just…" Anna shrugged. "This ain't my fight, I don't know if I get a say-"

"Of course you do." Rune frowned. Anna licked her lips, glancing to the others, and raised her hand.

Rune turned to Aiden. "You know we can't let these bastards get away with what they did to Ava and to Matty… they killed Parker, Aiden." Rune picked up a shotgun from one of the Davenports and held it out to Aiden. "You with me, son?"

Aiden glanced from Rune, the man that was his father in all but blood. The man that had kept everyone safe and together. What did Aiden know about what was right? Not to mention that… well, how would Aiden have acted in Rune's shoes? He shoved his doubt to the back of his mind and took the gun. "Sure, always, Rune."

**I've already started the next chapter so… see ya soon!**

**R.**


	17. The Way of Modern America

**Okay, final chapter, let's do this.**

**But let me just say a Merry Christmas Eve to everyone. I was going to upload this tomorrow, but instead I'll work on the epilogue and upload that tomorrow so you all have something to read. But yeah, this is the final chapter. Enjoy it and don't forget to review - there's been some varying in reviews, but a special shout-out to _motordog_ for reviewing every single chapter within hours of uploading. Also, a lil' shout-out to _So hard to choose__ usernames_ for reviewing a bunch of chapters they'd missed out on. That takes dedication and I've only been able to do that a few times. Very much appreciated.**

**Also, I know I haven't given many songs to many characters, but I've thought of one that... well, it doesn't sum up Rune Brody's personality, but I feel like it just captures the feeling of his... tendencies. _Deceit and Betrayal_ by _Audiomachine_.**

_11__th__ July, 1902_

_Flat Iron Lake, U.S.A_

The dining room of the riverboat was undignified opulence incarnate. The chandelier that loomed over the crowd with crystals glistening with lantern light, the silken white tablecloths that would be thrown away after the stains of soup and sauce rendered it worthless, the gold and platinum necklaces encrusted with diamonds and sapphires and rubies… back in his day, Thomas Cooper would've hit up the place for the rings alone.

But it was a better life he had now. There'd been no problems getting onto the boat – no wretched Brodies had snuck aboard, he was certain of it. And he'd placed some of Davenport's retainers at the tables with Schofield revolvers. That was six undercover and eight guards inside, as well as the six outside… twenty men all in all.

Dick Barlow professed his admiration for Roy and how he'd been a true friend and a truer American. It was a long, tedious speech – the man had sought Roy's service as a lawyer after whipping a negro half to death. That was Roy – had performed his service for everyone (everyone who mattered, that was).

Roy gestured for Thomas and spoke lowly into his ear. "You wired her, yes?" Thomas replied with a nod. "Good… did she reply?"

"Her aide did – said she was otherwise occupied, but the price should be sufficient."

Thomas nodded and leant back into his chair, sighing as he plastered on a smile and applauded Dick Barlow's speech. "Thank you for those kind words, sir." Roy rose to his feet. "Thank you for those kind words, but this little soiree is not for me…" Roy picked up his glass of scotch and gestured to his daughter. "This is for my daughter's soon-to-be husband and master, Mr. Lucien Durand." Roy smiled at the young man. "A thousand blessing to you both."

"A thousand blessings!" Everyone parroted the toast.

* * *

"Sorry…" Lucien mumbled to Genevieve. She turned towards him, not entirely sure what he was apologising for. "Well…" Lucien cleared his throat. "It hasn't escaped my notice that you are… less than thrilled about this arrangement."

"That's one way of putting it…" Genevieve murmured.

"But… well, we're to be a family now," Lucien explained. "Perhaps we could… at least _try_ to be friends?"

Genevieve crossed her arms. "And if I were to say that I never sleep in the same bed as friends?"

Lucien's smile hardened for a moment and he sipped his port, feigning a laugh. "I would remind you that I am your husband first." Genevieve nodded. Just as she'd expected. She licked her lips and rose to her feet. "Where are you going?"

Genevieve let out a loud sigh and turned towards him. "A gentleman wouldn't ask…"

"I'm your husband-"

"Not yet," Genevieve replied curtly before walking out of the room. Christ, the man was feeble. She hadn't seen Aiden yet, but maybe he was hiding somewhere…

Avery was right, this life wasn't her but… well, she doubted that being an outlaw was here either. And not to mention that… well, she had been stressed, that was no doubt the reason, but she still hadn't bled yet… if the worst _did_ happen, at least she could claim it wasn't a bastard…

The thought flexed something tight around her throat – she wanted a cigarette. And whiskey – hell, maybe she needed some of Uncle Shelby's opium.

Genevieve arrived at the lavatory and (after fiddling with the infernal contraption she wore, sat down, allowing herself to think. Was Aiden coming? Was he there already? Or had he finally grown tired of her, the gang leaving Lemoyne after robbing a bank? Aiden wasn't like that… at least, he didn't seem to be.

And that half-hearted proposal – was that another scheme? Was he using her as a way to rob from her family? The matter was that she wasn't an outlaw or a murderer and he was both. Is that the sort of man she wanted to be with? Yes, of course, she cared about him more than other men she'd met but… well, her family would never talk to her again, she was sure of it.

* * *

Night's Hawk clambered aboard with Anna, who crawled across the bow of the boat, clutching a rope and tossing it towards the second boat (which Rune, Aiden and Sam were on). They caught the rope and the two rowboats pulled up on either side of the rear.

Sam struggled climbing onto the boat – he was terrified Mercer's revolver would fall out of his holster, and the gunbelt was still too big for him, but Rune pulled him up and onboard.

"Alright, gang," Rune whispered as he peered at the guards that patrolled the deck, "Luca, I want you and Lana to go and take the aft…" Rune gestured to the front of the ship. "Near, take Miss Colt and Night's Hawk down the stern…"

"You alright, Near?" Aiden frowned.

"So long as I don't do no running…" Near replied, wincing as he shifted his weight onto his good leg.

"Miss Anna, Miss Alice, take portside and wait outside the doors…"

"Huh?" Alice frowned.

"Go left," Rune hissed. "Sam, Aiden, you two are with me." Rune put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You alright?"

"Yeah…" Sam said nervously.

"Ain't no shame in being afraid, son."

"I'm… I'm okay, Rune."

Rune's mouth twitched into a smile. "You're being a real brave boy, you hear me?"

Sam managed to force a smile. Rune was… well, there was a soft side to him. He was glad – Mercer always placed his faith in the right people…

Aiden followed Rune and Sam – how many times had he received that fatherly smile from Rune? Only now… well, Rune made no acknowledgement to Aiden. Instead, he stuck close by Sam – his new son, apparently…

"Aiden," Rune whispered, pointing to one of the lawmen that pissed over the side of the boat. "Want to do the honours?"

"Sure you don't want to send your prize pony?" Aiden replied.

"Oh, this is hardly the time for your childishness…"

"Sure," Aiden growled, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Oh, I may as well do it… See, Sam, Aiden here's gone all soft," Rune explained. "He's forgotten just how we do things."

"No, I ain't-"

"They kill one of us, we kill ten of them. They kill three of us, we wipe them all out- Aiden's just all bark now. Soft as he ever-"

"Shut your goddamn mouth," Aiden snarled, "I ain't gone-"

"Why don't you prove it- oh, wait…" Rune chuckled, "you're too busy sulking. I'll deal with this-" Rune moved to stalk towards the guard.

"Oh, damn you…" Aiden murmured, moving along in front of Rune.

"No, I'll do it-"

"Shut up…" Aiden groaned as he crept behind the guard.

Rune moved back to Sam. "Just remember," Rune whispered, "Aiden is a strong man, but he is something of a dolt. Learn how to play him."

Aiden grabbed the guard's head and slammed it into the side of the boat before throwing him overboard. He looked back to Rune. "Happy now?"

"Not yet, keep trying. Because you're either loyal to the gang or you ain't-"

"I'm fine!"

"Good! Stay that way!" Rune shot back a glare as he allowed Sam to walk in first. "Remember, boy, no gunfire yet…"

Sam nodded to Rune before glancing back to Aiden. Truly the worst of the bunch – the man had little else other than sour feelings and a thirst for blood.

Rune took out his Buck Cattleman revolver and clicked back the hammer, breathing deeply. He was close now – close to wiping out their enemies. "Aiden?" Rune asked.

"Ready." Aiden drew his black Buck. He began to pull up his red bandana when Rune grabbed his hand.

"I want these bastards to know who we are." Rune turned back to the door. "Let's ruin these bastards…" Rune murmured as he kicked open the double doors and fired his revolver into the air. Women screamed and men yelled as Rune calmly walked forwards, scanning the crowd for Rune Davenport.

A man rose from his chair, trying to draw a revolver, but Aiden quickly kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him to the floor, and following up with a swift kick.

A door from the right burst open and Alice and Anna walked in, Alice firing her shotgun at the guards. Anna drew an arrow and fired, watching it soar across and hit one of the guards on-stage.

A third door opened on the balcony above, and Luca and Lana marched down both walkways, firing their rifles and sending guards tumbling down onto the dinner tables below.

"Quiet!" Rune shouted, firing his revolver a second time. Then a third and a fourth. The crowd grew to a quiet whimpering as Rune watched the door to their left open and Ellie and Night's Hawk walked in, followed by Near (due to his limping).

"Ladies and gentlemen, you may know our faces, glimpsed us in the street, but you do not truly know us." Rune picked up a cigar from a plump old man and placed it in his mouth as he walked towards the centre of the room, a hand on his hip. "We are the Rune Brody Gang, and we are here for our benefactor. So… where is Roy Davenport?" Roy glanced around, waiting expectantly for the man to jump out and reveal himself. "Y'know, I'll settle for _a_ Davenport?" Aiden's hand grew tighter around his revolver. Rune's pale blue eyes shifted onto the old half-blind limey that sat at a table.

"Where's your boss?" Thomas Cooper's good eye flickered up to Rune before casually looking away. Rune jerked his head to Anna, who walked over with a knife drawn. "You only got one eye left. Don't make us take it, Cooper…"

"Go to hell," Thomas replied – almost as if he truly did not care what happened to him.

Anna grabbed Cooper's neck and brought his face back, so that his good eye was looking up to the chandelier as Anna's knife drew closer.

"Better come out, Roy…"

"Very well," came Roy Davenport's voice from a table behind Cooper. He stood up, clasping his lapel as Paradise grew closer to her mother. "I suppose you have some grievances to air?"

Rune walked forwards and leant on the table, his eyes heavy on the Rebel in front of him. "This how you Rebels conduct business in the South?" Rune hissed. "You _filth_!"

Roy remained calm. "You robbed me-"

"You rob everyone else," Rune's voice raised if only for a moment. "I know fellas like you…" his voice was shaking, "fellas who- who have the law in their pocket! Who think their money lets them control everything…"

"What y'are describing, sir, is the way of modern America. And you all are just thieves and killers. Perhaps even worse…" Roy's eyes fell on Aiden. "I've seen some of the looks your folk give mine. The way your little thug leers at my girl-"

"Shut your damn mouth," Aiden growled.

"Who do you think you are?"

"A man with a gun," Near replied from the other side of the room.

"So like a savage…" Roy scoffed.

"A what?" Night's Hawk nocked another arrow.

"Like a goddamn savage," Roy spat the words.

"Whatever grievance we may have done you…" Rune said slowly, glaring at Roy and his wife and daughter. "Whatever mistakes we may have made… you ordered the murder of an innocent woman. An innocent man. You killed three civilians!" Rune snapped, his eyes heavy. "There are _rules_! There are some things that you just do not _do_!"

There was a long pause as Thomas gave a short nod. Out of the corner of Rune's eye – and it was as subtle as anything else, but he noticed it. It was to someone in the crowd…

"Damn your rules…" Roy growled. "And damn you!" He pulled at his cravat. "You ask me how we conduct business in the south? Allow me to show you, you Yankee numbskull…"

Rune nodded. "Of course…" He drew his revolver and pulled back the hammer, aiming it at Roy's head.

Aiden fired his gun, killing a man who had been sat at the table behind Rune. Rune turned around, completely confounded. He turned back to see Thomas Cooper leaping to his feet, pulling Roy and the two women towards the exit.

Rune started firing at Thomas, one of his bullets straying and hitting a man in the leg. He let out a cuss and grabbed a glass from the table, chucking it forwards and hitting Thomas in the back of the head as he passed through the doors.

A gunshot cracked again, and Rune felt a bullet graze his stomach. He gasped to look up and see a flurry of people. None of them dressed like guards, but bullets were still flying. He saw something shine – a gun? Or a watch or…

He raised his revolver and fired, hitting the man and watching a revolver clatter to the floor. "They're armed!" Rune shouted.

Alice fired her shotgun, taking a man's leg off and watching a woman shriek and yell, looking at the bloody stump. Alice loaded her shotgun calmly and then fired at the woman. In Alice's eyes, no-one could kill her if she killed all of them…

Night's Hawk stood there, gripping his bow as he watched these white people cry and run. How many of his people had been like this? How many of them begged? His people had been raped, murdered and robbed. By right, he ought to do the same… He nocked an arrow and fired it into the crowd, hitting a rich white tycoon in the head. His fine clothes were bloodied… it felt good.

Lana didn't have a reason. She didn't really remember thinking through why she did what she did… she saw someone near Luca and shot them. She didn't know if they had a gun… maybe. Maybe not. But she knew one thing – Luca was safe.

Near looked around at the people calling for help, being shot down as they tried to run for safety. It reminded him of the stories he'd heard from his father about when the slaves tried to escape the mines. He looked at the gang – his very family… butchering people.

Aiden stood next to Anna, watching nock and arrow and go to rush forwards. He didn't take a moment, he grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back, pushing her against the wall.

"Stop!" Aiden tried, but Anna slipped out of his grasp and moved into the crowd, unleashing her fury and vengeance in bloody retribution. Aiden looked around, trying to find Genevieve in the room, hoping she wasn't one of the corpses on the floor. Failing to see her, he left the carnage in the room and made his way down the hall, through the escaping civilians. He grabbed one of the women by the throat. "Where's the Ladies?" He pointed his revolver at her head. "Where?" The woman pointed down the corridor and Aiden released her, shoving his way through the people.

He kicked open the door and pointed his revolver inside, finding no-one there but Genevieve, who washed her hands. "Aiden?" She gasped. "What's been-"

"You need to go," Aiden said as he swept across the room, grabbing her wrist and leading her towards the door.

"What are you doing? Let go of me-" Genevieve tried to pull her hand free and Aiden turned to face her.

"The gang is here, and they're killing everyone," he explained.

"Why would they do that?"

"Because your father has already started killing us all off!" Aiden shouted. He licked his lips and pulled the shotgun from his shoulder. "I need to get you outta here."

"But Pari-"

"I'll do what I can, but I need _you _safe." He handed her his revolver. She examined the pear grip, an eagle emblazoned on the hilt. It seemed so strange in her hand… heavier than what she was used to. "You shot one, right?"

"Well… at bottles."

Aiden pumped the shotgun. "There's boats at the back. I'll put you in one and then look for your family." Aiden opened the door and moved first, his shotgun scanning the crowd for other retainers. A bullet whizzed by his ear and he turned to see a man running towards him, revolver drawn.

"No, it's me- it's Genevieve Daven-" Genevieve tried to catch the man's attention, but he was swiftly hit in the head with the stock of Aiden's shotgun once. Then twice. Aiden wiped the blood from his cheek and looked up at her.

"Shoot next time." He grabbed her hand and they moved down the corridor with the stragglers of the crowd. More gunshots – rifles. Aiden grabbed Genevieve and threw her against a wall, covering her mouth.

"They fall weird…" he heard Alice chuckle.

"Find me those goddamn Davenports!" Rune shouted.

Aiden looked into Genevieve's deep blue eyes, feeling her breath get cut short upon hearing him talk. She looked up into Aiden's hazel eyes, unsure exactly of what he would do now called upon by his mentor.

Aiden slowly removed his hand from her mouth and crept towards the corner of the wall, peering around it for a moment before grabbing Genevieve's hand again and pulling her down towards the rowboats.

* * *

Sam was led by Near down one of the corridors. He felt… well, he felt scared. It was hard to fathom his true emotions, what with so many of them jumbled together within a single day…

Near reminded him of Mercer in a peculiar way – like he was the other side of the same coin. Where Mercer was a drunk, Near seemed sober in all senses of the word. Mercer had been a lawman in his day, whereas Near had always been an outlaw. But most importantly, Mercer never smiled and Near always seemed to. Except, of course, on the riverboat.

"So, we find them and kill them?" Sam asked.

"That's what Rune says…" Near grunted.

"But… I don't know if that's…" Sam frowned. It wasn't _these_ Davenports that killed Mercer…

"You don't know if you want 'em dead?"

"I… well, I don't know… Rune doesn't-"

"Let me tell you something, son," Near grumbled, "you do what you believe you should. Let me deal with Rune and his wants…"

Near opened a door to a small closet filled with a broomstick, mop, bucket and, most importantly, two people. Aiden McKneil and Genevieve Davenport. Near's eyes widened as he examined the two of them, hands tightly clasped.

"Hey," Alice shouted from down the corridor, "what're you expecting to find in there? Or you figure you'd become a maid now you only got one leg?" She snickered.

Aiden shook his head to Near as he pulled on Genevieve's hand, forcing her behind him. Near licked his lips – he'd never seen the lad look quite so scared. And putting himself in front of the girl… well, maybe it was vanity or wishful thinking, but… it reminded him of Henri. Of what he would've done if she was in danger.

"How's about you go look somewhere else, Alice?" Near raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, there's a bunch of people running 'round, you can't think to check them?"

"I-"

"Did I ask you to talk, girl? Go look for those goddamn Rebels!"

Alice rolled her eyes and turned to walk back towards the bow of the riverboat. Near glanced back to Aiden and Genevieve. "Take one of the rowboats," he said to Aiden, "put her in and then look for the rest of them. We've scoured the back of the ship and couldn't find them."

"My father," Genevieve said. "My father, he'll come with us, right?"

Near bit his lip. "Girl, I'm afraid Rune's bent on killing Roy." Genevieve covered her mouth. "But I swear to you, I will do my best to get your mother and sister out of here…"

Aiden nodded and jogged along the deck with Genevieve, helping her into the rowboat. He was going to turn to go back when she caught his hand. "I…" She bit her lip. "I don't know what to say…"

Aiden glanced over his shoulder at the distant gunshots and looked back to her. "If I ain't back in five minutes, you go, you hear?"

"Where? Back to Rhodes-"

"No, you go somewhere we ain't never gonna go back to. Valentine, or Emerald Ranch, Blackwater- just get outta here." Aiden took his revolver from her and handed her the shotgun. "Remember, shoot first." He grabbed her by the neck and roughly pressed his lips against hers. It was… well, it was almost like her first kiss. It was as though every other kiss had been dull of the passion and lust she felt in that one moment.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Paradise clung to her mother as Roy anxiously loaded his revolver. "Make them stop," Paradise cried, "please, mama, make them stop-"

"Pari, it's okay. We'll be out of here soon…" Valentina soothed her daughter as she looked over to Roy. "How are we getting out of here?"

"Well, they didn't stow away, so they must have boats nearby-" Roy raised his revolver as the door opened. Thomas Cooper held up his hands. "Christ, man, announce yourself next time, I almost shot you…"

"If I announced myself, someone _else_ would've shot me." Roy handed Thomas the revolver.

"You're sure I shouldn't have one?"  
"They'll most likely shoot first if they see you armed," Thomas explained, checking the cylinder of the second revolver. "At least this way you can barter your money with them."

Roy nodded. "So, the plan?"

"Three rowboats at the stern. I'll escort you there, but you _must_ be quiet…" Thomas' good eye flickered to Paradise.

"Pari, sweetie," Valentina said gently, "you've got to be quiet now, you hear? Calm yourself…" She shushed her daughter as if she were a baby, holding her close.

"Okay," Thomas nodded. "I'll go first, make sure the coast is clear. I'll come back for you three when it is."

"Mr. Cooper, you're a good friend…" Roy shook Thomas' hand.

"Mr. Davenport. Ladies…" Thomas cocked back the hammers of his Schofield revolvers and crept out of the door.

* * *

Genevieve sat in the rowboat, counting down the seconds in her head. At least, she was until she heard some shuffling and footsteps. She picked up the shotgun and pumped a shell into the chamber, just like Ambrose had shown her. She pointed it at the deck, waiting to see who would appear.

"Someone there?" The grizzled Englishman said. Genevieve let out a sigh of relief.

"Mr. Cooper?"

The man poked his head out and, sure enough, it was him. Genevieve gave a wide smile and stood up as he lowered himself into the rowboat. She gave him a tight hug. "I thought you might've died…"

"Not yet…" Thomas grinned.

"Is my father okay? My mother, Pari…?"

Thomas licked his lips, examining her with his good eye before sighing. "There was nothing I could do…" Genevieve didn't change. She thought she would change – that there'd be some crushing realization or something would break inside her. Instead, she just sort of… heard the words. She nodded and sat down as Thomas leant close to her. "Miss, we need to get you out of here."

"Blackwater," Genevieve said, hollowly. "I think-"

"We can't travel through three states with no money or horses…" Thomas informed her. "I'll take you to your uncle Guido."

* * *

Aiden pulled out his pocket watch, brushing a thumb over the cracked face. He'd been gone four minutes… he had to get back quickly, else Genevieve would be gone and he could do nothing for her family then.

He opened the door to a small cabin at the back of the riverboat and saw Roy, Valentina and Paradise all huddled together at the back. Paradise let out a shrill scream and Aiden pressed a finger to his mouth, but Valentina had already thrown a crystal decanter at him. Aiden fell backwards, narrowly avoiding the decanter.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Aiden tried to explain, but Valentina had picked up a crystal ashtray and launched it across the room. It thudded into Aiden's eye, making his revolver fire into Roy's foot. "Shit…" Aiden cussed, pressing his palm to his cheekbone – it was hot like an iron in the fire.

"Mr. Cooper!" Roy shouted. "Mr. Cooper!"

"Goddamn it…" Aiden hissed, holding his cheekbone as he looked up at Roy.

"Well done, son," Rune said as he arrived at the door, followed by Alice, Lana, Luca and Ellie. His eyes fell on Roy's bleeding foot and chuckled. "See, Alice? I told you he had my back…" Aiden glanced to Alice, who gave him a smirk. His hand flexed around the hilt of his revolver. "Good evening, Mr. Davenport. Mrs. Davenport…"

"Stay away from my daughter," Valentina growled.

Rune pointed his Buck Cattleman revolver at Valentina. "I've had to bury three members of my family today. Three people that you killed for no reason other than spite!"

"You're not a family," Roy snarled. "This is my _wife_ and _daughter_…"

"Where's the other one?" Rune turned to Aiden, who shrugged. He glanced back to Roy. "Have you heard from Shelby or Ambrose in the past few hours?"

Roy narrowed his eyes. Why would he have? He'd been on the boat… he saw Rune's pale grey eyes glint in the moonlight and his hands clenched into fists. "You… you killed my brothers?"

"And I'll kill all of you as well," Rune said calmly as he scooped away some broken crystals with his boot. "I'll do it without a second thought."

"You're a murderer, Brody!" Valentina spat at him. "Oh, you dress it up like you're some visionary saviour, but all you want is _gold_. So, go on! How much?"

Rune stiffened. His jaw clenched and he took a step forwards, his head turning to the side as he examined the people in front of him. "You think you can _buy_ me?" He hissed.

"You're parasites," Valentina responded. "Common criminals. What else is there for you?"

Rune licked his lips, his eyes falling on Paradise. She was pretty – one of the prettiest women he'd seen. Ava had been pretty too… "Okay," Rune said calmly. He grabbed Paradise by the wrist and tore her from Valentina's grasp. Though Valentina cussed and screamed, Alice came in to grab her and hold her back while Luca put a revolver to Roy's head. Rune threw Paradise to the ground and fired a bullet into her forehead.

Valentina let out a scream that tore and scratched her voice. Rune turned Roy and leaned in close, speaking into his ear so only the two of them knew what he was saying. "Now you know what it's like to lose someone you care about…" Rune fired a bullet into Roy's knee, and then another into Valentina's. "All your money, Roy…" Rune said loudly. "All your power and status… fine clothes and manners – where's it got you?"

"I know powerful people," Roy spluttered, "they'll gut you-"

"Burn this ship down!" Rune shouted to the gang. "I want that other Davenport to burn or drown with her family!" Aiden clenched his jaw and tried to walk out, but Rune grabbed him by the shoulder. "Set a fire in here, son." Aiden licked his lips, looking to the helpless people on the ground before doing as he was told. "As I was saying… where did it get you? Burning to death on a ship by a bunch of Paddies and Greasers…" Rune scoffed. "You shouldn't have treated us like animals, Mr. Davenport. They have a habit of biting when there's no way out."

Aiden grabbed the decanter of brandy and tossed it around the room before taking a box of matches out of his vest and drawing one, clenching it tightly. There was no going back after this. He was condemning himself – condemning all hope of anything with Genevieve.

"Please," Roy rasped hollowly, "Mr. McKneil…"

Aiden was wary not to look at Roy for fear of losing his nerve. He was scared to look at Rune in case he'd see his doubt. He closed his eyes and told himself, 'it's for the gang'. He struck a match and tossed it on the floor, backing out with Rune and making his way towards the rowboats.

* * *

As the fire raged across the steel riverboat, a beacon in the darkness, a group of silhouettes walked across the deck. A woman held a torch, tossing it through the window of a cabin before rejoining her comrades, all of them walking towards the rowboats tethered to the stern. And not a single one of them looked back as they departed the inferno on the lake.

**I wasn't sure how to end this, so I figured I'd leave it there. We don't need to see the minutia of them leaving, but like… let me know what you thought.**

**Also, out of interest, which event did you enjoy reading more – Ava's Last Hour, the Tragedy at Shady Belle (Matty's death) or the Riverboat Massacre (this chapter). They're all similar but very distinctly different in their own ways.**

**See ya tomorrow!**

**R.**


	18. Epilogue: A Good Excuse

**So, I took my time with this. Now, I gotta say something – usually, I don't like to say my intentions with writing because people think that's canon and the fact is that your interpretation are equally as valid as mine. Trust me, I wrote an essay on this and got an A.**

**That being said, I really feel like I need to flex my 'authorial canon muscles' here, because everyone's being arguing about Rune being crazy… **_motordog _**leapt to give us some context… but here's the thing – Rune is not crazy. He's not insane, he's not mental… true, he has some PTSD, but that's just a fraction of his decision-making and is not ****_why_**** he's done what he's done. So, just know now… Rune is not crazy.**

**There is a reason as to why Rune does what he does, and I won't say it just yet (we've got about 2 more phases before I ****_really_**** get into that stuff…), but I'll give you a clue – the gang's at fault as much as Rune.**

**That being said, onwards. **

_Scarlett Meadows, LE_

_12__th__ July, 1902_

The sun had risen over Scarlett Meadows – a land that just wasn't the same anymore. Elijah knew that… when everyone returned, they'd not spoken a word. Rune hadn't come out of his tent since. And Near wasn't his usual smiling self. The most recently acquired stray, Samuel, was a young gawk.

"Do you have any people?" Elijah asked him. Sam replied with a shrug. "Family or…?" Sam shook his head. "Brother? Sister?"

Sam paused. Did he still have a sister? She'd been taken in by a good family before he came across Mercer. They hadn't seen each other in years… He finally gave a shrug. "Dunno…"

Elijah cleared his throat and removed the silver crucifix from around his neck. "I had no folk in West Elizabeth," he mumbled, "but the priest in this town… he told me that God is always there for folk who don't have no-one else…" He offered the crucifix to Sam, who just looked at it blankly.

"I don't believe…" Sam murmured.

"No-one does until they do," Elijah replied with a smile, offering the crucifix once again.

Ellie didn't know what had happened. She didn't know who shot first, but she… well, she'd lowered her gun. She just didn't have it in her to shoot folk like that. She was sat at the camp table, resting her face in her hand as she turned over the lump of rabbit in her bowl of stew with faint sploshes.

Thudding footsteps against the crisp, dry grass. She looked up to see Lana there, marching towards her with fervent purpose. She sat down and glared at Ellie in the eye. "What was that?"

"What was wha-"

Lana tossed Ellie's bowl of stew off the table. "Listen to me, _perra_," She growled, "the next time people shoot at us, you shoot back at them!" Lana stood up and glanced over to Lil' Sam. "You listen too, _Niño_. Learn how we do things around here…"

* * *

Sam slowly walked over to the old Spanish lady that chopped meat, careful not to look at the _young_ Spanish lady who'd just called over to him. The camp was strange and Sam just wanted to go home. But at least he had Rune there for him. He was nice – a real kind fella.

He walked over to Rune's burgundy tent where he saw the bully, Aiden, arguing with the leader, Rune.

"…We have _liberated_ this place from the tyrannical grasp of Davenports-" Rune tried to explain.

"Do you even remember what happened?" Aiden growled. "Women, innocent people, all of them – butchered!"

"They were our enemies, brother," Rune cocked an eyebrow as he rose to his feet.

"How is an eighteen-year-old girl our enemy?" Aiden crossed his arms. "That weren't killing, Rune, that was murder-"

"You murdered folk first, Aiden," Rune pointed out. "Herridge? I didn't _make_ you kill him…"

"You put a gun in my hand and told-"

"It was necessary," Rune said firmly. "We ain't gonna roll over for these folk just 'cos they have _money_!" He placed a hand on Aiden's shoulder. "I'm eternally grateful for your loyalty, Aiden. You're my brother, my son, but most of all, you are the one I can _always_ count on. You see these…" Rune shook his head as he looked out across to the rest of the gang. "Good things don't just _happen_. You and me, we do the bad things so they don't have to. Killing Ava, the Davenports… Herridge…" Rune slapped Aiden on the shoulder. "Just remember, we're getting closer to what we want."

"And what is that again?" Aiden asked, eyes heavy on Rune, who looked genuinely puzzled.

"Well… freedom, brother," Rune scoffed, as if it was obvious. "A promised land free from… _this_." Rune sighed. "There's a war coming, son. I don't know when, but it's a-coming… mark me."

"If you say so…" Aiden grunted.

"I always taught you to speak if you've got something to say, my taciturn protégé…"

And there it was again. The man that had raised him, taught him, trained him, officially calling him a protégé. In spite of absolutely _everything_ that had happened, there was still that part of him that was prepared to die for Rune.

"Well… well, I mean, ain't the war over Rune? I mean, hell, between the Natives and the Mexicans, there ain't no-one left to fight no more!" Rune laughed loudly in response. "Alright, I know I'm an idiot…"

"No, you are a… you are a _realist_, son. See, I ain't talking about a war against some Yankee president or Mexican dictator… _civilization_, boy. _Civilization_ is coming- and it ain't gonna come quietly, you hear?"

Aiden shrugged. "Sounds a lot like philosophy, Rune. I ain't got a head for it – them's your words, not mine."

Rune chuckled. "Very true… y'know, Aiden, you're…" Rune's blue-grey eyes glinted at Aiden for a moment before he smiled. "Well, I'm glad you're with me."

Aiden shrugged. "With you to the end, Rune, it's just…" Aiden glanced out to the empty horizon. In that moment, he caught sight of Sam and turned back to Rune, speaking quietly. "This ain't how we do things, y'know?"

* * *

Charlotte approached the boy tentatively. He was a good couple of years older than her – he looked dirty and had a sharp face. He had scratches all over his face – like he'd been playing with a cat…

Charlotte wished she had a cat.

She walked up to the boy and tugged on his sleeve. "Are you new?"

"I… think so?" The boy frowned. Charlotte's eyes drifted onto the simple revolver that lay in his holster.

"Have you shot it at anyone?" The boy shrugged. "Can I shoot it?"

"I don't think you're allowed…"

"Oh, Rune says I can," Charlotte lied confidently.

A hand clasped on Charlotte's shoulder and Rune looked down at her. "No, he doesn't." He looked to Sam. "Lil' Sam, this young lady here is Charlotte. Charlie, Sam here will be staying with us for a while." He talked quietly into her ear. "Go show him around – make him feel at home, hmm?"

Charlie nodded and took Sam by the hand, showing him around the campsite as instructed.

* * *

Near sat at the campfire, brushing a thumb against his weathered, blistered palms. He hadn't seen that much bloodshed since escaping the mines with his father – some of the others didn't make it out. And a rebellious negro ain't a good worker. The easiest way to deal with that fire was to beat it, lash it (sometimes even fuck it) out of them. Eventually the slaves would think that they were wrong – that being dulled and docile _is_ the right thing to do…

"Near," Aiden interrupted the old man's thoughts as he sat down by the fire, "I just wanted to say…" he lowered his voice, "I wanted to say thank you. For… letting her go, I mean."

Near gave a nod. He cared for Aiden – he was rough and ready and sullen and bold, but he was also good. The boy kept his word – that sort of thing mattered a lot to Near. He glanced into the fire and let out a miserable sigh. "What an absolute Goddamn mess…" He muttered. "All them folk dead and for what?" Near rubbed his chin and looked back over to Aiden. "Do you know why he killed them girls? Does _he_ know?" Aiden shrugged. "Like, is it 'cos of the war? Is he… right in the head or…?"

"I can't explain that…" Aiden shrugged again. "Can't explain any of this but… at least it's over now. The Brotherhood, Davenports- it's finished."

"Oh, we're gonna hang up our hats now?" Near raised an eyebrow. "How many have you two killed together?"

"Huh?"

"Well, Herridge and his lawmen in New Austin," Near said, counting on his fingers, "there was that little old lady Rune almost killed in Big Valley-"

"Watson was an outlaw who threatened-"

"An old lady's threat. Then there were those dozen soldiers up North…"

"That was different, that wasn't meant to-"

"He strangled a man to death in front of his son…"

"To protect _us_!"

Near scoffed. _How_ was that protecting them? He looked up at Aiden's hazel eyes, glinting in the flickering firelight. "He's always a got a good excuse, don't he?" Near rubbed his knee – still sore, even after a bottle of whiskey. "What excuse did he give ya for that massacre?"

"How many have _you_ killed?" Aiden snapped, standing up. "What excuses can _you_ give?"

"I know that I've killed a lotta folk for a whole bunch of different reasons that don't mean much anymore…" Near nodded. "But I don't think I ever wiped out families like that in a single day."

Aiden's mouth opened and closed again. "They- they killed Ava! They killed Matty- Parker! They wouldn't even let us bury Parker and…"

"And Rune butchered forty people. He felt sorrow and rage and made everyone else feel it too."

"You don't know nothing 'bout any of this! You ain't lost what he's lost, you ain't see _half_ the shit we have! You ain't been with us nowhere near as long, known Matty or Parker or…"

"I ain't?"

"No!"

"And you have?"

Aiden paused. "Yeah!"

"Alright," Near rubbed his jaw and groaned as he pushed himself up onto his good leg. "So would you have done it?" Aiden frowned, his mouth agape. "You've lost just as much as him. Fought for the gang as much as him. If Lana had died- if _Genevieve_ had died… what would _you_ have done?" Aiden licked his lips. "Would you have murdered and butchered _innocent_-"

"Yes," Aiden replied firmly, his jaw clenching.

Near scoffed, shaking his head at the boy. "Y'know, Rune's a…" Near paced with his limp. "Y'all just follow him no matter what. Y'all just convince and _lie_ to yourself, saying he's right and y'are wrong. Like he's infallible, like he's… like he's God." Near faced Aiden again. "Give most men that power, they'll go rotten."

"What're you sayin'?"

Near sighed, staring into Aiden's eyes. "You know you wouldn't have killed folk like that…"

Aiden's eyes dropped to the fire, glimmering as he spoke quietly. "I don't know what I'd do…" He sat down. Near nodded and moved around the fireplace to sit next to him, patting him on the shoulder.

"You're too loyal to say it. Or you're too scared… but you know what he did was wrong." Near glanced over to Rune's tent, watching him read a book. "I love him too…" Near rubbed his shorn scalp. "Maybe not… same as you, but I admired him. What he stood for, what he wanted…"

Aiden glanced up to the old man. "It's done now. It doesn't matter no more…"

Near leant forwards, a hand gently holding Aiden's neck as he spoke quietly. "Of course it matters. Matters the most right now."

* * *

Over his lifetime, Guido Martelli had studied Lemoyne. He'd deceived, killed and betrayed, all in the hope that he may someday tame it. That day had finally arrived.

Because at no time in the past three years of his reign had he met a man his equal – as capable as himself. A warrior as willing to fight for what was his to take, an equal to raise an army or a foe strong enough to break the will of his enemies. Daring enough to stare death in the face and openly defy its law.

Such a man did not exist. They could not. But, if Guido _did_ meet such a foe, he knew just how to receive him.

**So, that brings Phase/Season/Installment 3 to a close. Now, I know we said we're halfway through the series but for the sake of bringing in more characters and letting me use ****_all_** **my story ideas, here it is – There will now be an extra phase to the story, which will be the next one.**

**Some of you will have sent me characters already, so I'll quickly now reply to those of you saying which characters I will be using.**

**Also, I am currently planning my next project after this… let's call it ****_The West_**** series… that's nice and cliché. Or is it classic… anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter – it just felt right to end it on a camp chapter.**

**So, I'll post the next one within a week or so (just gotta figure out how to make everything flow…).**

**R.**

**P.S. OH, I forgot – the next project I'm planning. I'm thinking about a Star Wars SYOC? I've not seen ****_anyone_**** finish one before so… let's see if I can do that! So, PM me if you're interested in that.**


End file.
